Guardian
by Penelope Jadewing
Summary: An encounter with a wolf leaves Break unconscious in the middle of the snowy woods surrounding the Rainsworth house. When he wakes, he's taken its place, trapped the form of a feral dog, and charged by another to protect those he loves from the approaching evil ones, in punishment of his careless slaughter. Inspired by J. Huggins' A Wolf Story. Break/Sharon. T for violence.
1. Prologue: Fear

**A/N: This really doesn't have a place in the canon PH timeline... Definately an AU. Sorry to those who don't like it. XP**

**To see the full sized cover, visit my deviantArt profile. Search PenelopeJadewing. *nod***

**I do not own Pandora Hearts, nor any of its canon characters.**

**~Penelope**

_**Prologue:**_

**Fear**

_Sharon Rainsworth hated wolves._

_That was clear enough, that day the little heiress came running up, pale as death and just as frightened, with tears streaming down her face. She jumped into the white-haired man's arms and buried close, crying against him._

_It would seem that the winter stroll had taken a turn for the worst._

_He heard the wretched howl before he ever saw them. And when they emerged… They came like black phantoms, six skeletal creatures skulking from the fragile underbrush, each twig snapping against their bony flesh, skin so thin it was a wonder those branches didn't tear it open. Their eyes seemed to glow an unearthly red in the evening light, fiery in their hunger and rage. _

_Pushing little Sharon behind him, Break pressed the latch on his cane and drew his sword, standing tall over his charge between her and the imminent danger._

"_You've chosen the wrong prey today, mongrels," he uttered, breath puffing white in the frosty air. "And none of you will be leaving this clearing… alive."_

_The closest wolf snarled, bearing its ivory fangs before leaping straight for Break's throat. Its jaws clicked and snapped in its effort to sink its teeth into his flesh. Sharon screamed, and in one fluid motion, her guardian swept her backward, dodging the wolf's attack in the same moment. He swung his blade, catching the dog in the ribs and sending it writhing to the side._

_In the moment of distraction, the rest of the small pack surged upon them, and Break found himself attempting to keep the ring of starving mutts from his little princess. She hid under his cloak as he paced round and round, warding off each wolf as it took a snap at her ankles. By now, the wolves had the advantage, for when one jumped back to avoid the gleaming blade, another came forward on the opposite side. It was almost as if… they had a strategy. But that, of course, was absurd! They were animals – they didn't reason._

_The creatures attacked with unnatural vigor, more than likely driven by their obvious hunger, the starvation that made the saliva ooze from their maws with every look they gave his young charge. Their gazes brought new fury to the single-eyed swordsman, and in an attempt that could possibly help or harm them, he hoisted Sharon onto his back. He stabbed the closest wolf in the collarbone and without a second of hesitation, ran right over it in order to get out of the deadly ring. He felt the ribs snap under his foot before he was running through snow again. In a flurry of claws and icy fur, the wolves were right behind him._

_He whirled on them, still keeping Sharon aloft on his back with his free hand, and his blade cut down the entire first row of them. With only two left, he caught sight of victory._

_One of the two stepped just out of his reach and roared – near literally roared! Not a bark, or a growl, but a great snarl that sent snow swirling into the air, made his hair stand on end, and shook the ground beneath their feet. Icy fear pierced Break's chest, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It nearly drove him to his knees._

_The wolf's lips stretched into a manic grin, white teeth standing in stark contrast to its pitch coat. Then it stalked forward._

No… No! I swore! _He rose up again, blade flashing, and removed the second wolf of its head. The wicked one that had roared in his face seemed to hesitate, staring down at its now headless companion. Then its scarlet orbs turned up at Break, and it growled once more before turning and loping back into the woods. It slipped under a clump of brush, and was gone._

_The twilight was eerily still, and soon began to reek of death._

_Xerxes surveyed the carnage round about them, and stiffened when he felt a trembling against his leg. Looking down, he found that Sharon had slid down from his back, and was now cowering at his side, shielding all but her face from the blood-stained clearing. She stared at the headless wolf with wide magenta eyes, whimpering quietly. His expression softened; what a terrible thing for such a young, innocent girl to have to witness…_

_He knelt down to look her in the eye, offering her a small smile as he fingered the tips of her chestnut locks. "Don't worry, Miss Sharon – I will always protect you."_

_She tore her gaze from the bloody sight to stare into his single wine-red eye, searching as if to see if his claim were true. "You… You promise?"_

_He nodded. "I promise."_

_He then looked about at the number of dead animals about them, and gently picked the little girl up into his arms. "Come, young one; there's no reason to linger here any more. Your mother will begin to worry."_

_She rested her head against the shoulder of her white-haired guardian as he carried her away from that terrible scene. He smiled as she closed her eyes, and only then did he glance back to the dark underbrush in which the last wolf had disappeared._

_Whether he was hallucinating or not, he could have sworn he saw a pair of glowing red eyes lurking in the shadows beyond._


	2. Chapter 1: Admonition

**_A/N: _The character of Gianaval introduced in this chapter is based largely off James Huggins' character, Gianaval, leader of the Grey Wolves.**

**Chapter 1:**

_**Admonition**_

Wise golden eyes overlooked the entirety of the great manor known as the Rainsworth house. A massive palace of a house of ivy-laden brick and white shutters, topped with smoking chimneys, and surrounded for yards in all directions by vast, lush gardens – or, at least, they were lush in the spring and summer and autumn. But now, in the depths of a cruel winter, white blanketed any and all things in a crisp, glimmering layer of clean snow. From leafless trees to slanted roofs to grass trapped in its wintery slumber. And in the light of the rising full moon, it made for an absolutely breathtaking sight indeed.

But. That was not his reason for being here tonight. His watch was nearly done. And his relief would be arriving soon.

A twig snapped. His ears twitched backward. But he had smelled the approaching male long before any physical evidence had emerged, and his black nose still trembled as the scent grew stronger. He didn't turn as the younger wolf's presence drew alongside him.

"Koba," said he, with a small nod in his direction. The old alpha sat back on his haunches, and turned his ears back toward the property they stood over. The younger did the same, taking in a deep breath through his pink nose as he did so.

"Gianaval, sir," uttered the white wolf, icy eyes turned downward. He lifted his gaze then to the manorhouse and, in particular, the distant figures who sat on the snow-laden balcony, enjoying the night air.

"You have yet to master the skill of silence," said the elder wolf, turning toward him. Koba ducked his head, flattening his ears.

"Yes, sir… I-I'll get it soon enough."

It wasn't difficult to detect the lack of assurance in his words. Gianaval chuckled. "Indeed, you will."

Then, all amusement was gone, replaced by hard determination. "But for tonight, it is your first watch, and you need to know what to look out for."

The young wolf straightened at the seriousness of his voice, and nodded. "Tell me."

"The dark ones have increased their patrols as of late. For three days, now, they've been attempting to reach the house… It's only a guess, but I think they're after the mother. It wasn't enough to make her ill… they want to get rid of her. If they get to her, then not only will they harm her, but the daughter as well. And the grandmother. In one fell stroke, they could push the family out of the conflict indefinitely." Gianaval nodded toward the balcony. "I've been keeping close eye on the girl… and that manservant of hers. It's a relief to have him about… It makes our jobs easier."

Koba studied the balcony. "And so… my job is what?"

"Keep the perimeter secure. Keep the dark ones at bay, and sound the alarm if a greater force emerges. Do you think you can handle that, young pup?" The old wolf cast Koba a smirk once more, a smirk which morphed into a genuine smile when the white one nodded firmly.

"Yes, sir. I'll keep them all at bay; I promise you that. No dark wolf is going to scare me!"

A hearty laugh escaped the grey wolf's barrel chest. "Good lad! Good, good. I leave you to it! Good night, Koba, my boy; I shall send you relief at dawn."

Gianaval stood and began his way back to their headquarters beyond the woods. He paused, and only once did his warm eyes turn back to Koba, who sat broad-shouldered on the ridge of the hill, surveying the area that was his to protect this night. And with a short nod, the old grey wolf continued on his way.

Koba was a brave boy. And stalwart, and quick-footed. But if there was one thing in which he lacked… it was, perhaps, strategy. He had a nasty habit of jumping into things impulsively, with no thought toward ill consequences…

~_Guardian_~

"Break…"

He turned a silly grin to his mistress. "Yes, Ojou-sama?"

He just barely managed to duck under that menacing paper fan of hers, and he laughed at the anger burning in her magenta eyes. Which, of course, only made her more angry.

"Be serious, will you?" she growled as she took another swipe at him.

He caught her hand, surrounding her fist with his to still her fan, and gave her an innocent smile. "You really shouldn't growl so, milady. It's very unbecoming."

Her face twisted in indignation, and she struggled to free her hand. "Stop it! Why can't you… Ugh, you never tell me anything! Do you expect me to be okay with that?"

The unnerving smile never left his face as he cocked his head to the side. "Yes."

Sharon continued to jerk in her attempts to get loose from his grasp, but, being physically older and stronger, it was easy for him to maintain his advantage… luckily for him. Becoming more frustrated by the second, she soon raised her foot for a nice stomp on his toe. He saw it coming, and stepped back so that her sharp heel clomped on the stone floor of the balcony.

Break glanced over at the three observers. Of course, he felt no embarrassment; Oz and Gilbert had witnessed such scrapes before, and Alice simply didn't care. And Sharon obviously felt no shame at her behavior, for she continued on as if they weren't there.

Finally, she stilled in her struggling, and stared up at him with a hard, fixed glare. He only started to think that things had perhaps gone a tad too far when tears began welling in her eyes. His grip loosened.

She detected it, and finally ripped her hand from his grasp, letting her arm fall limp to her side. She took several deep, soothing breaths as she kept her glare steady on him, biting her lip as if to muzzle herself. When she finally let that muzzle slip, it was when she turned on her heel to storm back into the room.

"Why don't you learn to trust people, Break?"

Said with such cold bitterness… It startled him into silence as he watched her whisk through the room beyond, slam her fan onto the tea table, snatch her cloak from the hook, and disappear through the door into the house's inner halls.

The remaining four sat in awkward silence for long moments after she had gone, each submerged in their thoughts of what they had just witnessed.

Break, himself, was in the midst of a subconscious scolding. He berated himself for that practiced mask of careless mirth. But… of course, it was his defense. An attempt to get her to let him and his own personal secrets be. It would seem it had backfired once more… But what grounds did she have, really, to intrude on those things he wished to keep hidden? He never wanted to reveal the extent of his deterioration to her… nor any of the deep, dark secrets of his past. Like the truth surrounding Glen Baskerville and the Children of Misfortune… No, she didn't ever need to know any of that. Couldn't she realize that he was trying to protect her from further pain? Sharon Rainsworth had enough to concern herself with, what with her mother being so ill…

The crunch of hard snow in the gardens below alerted him to human presence there, and his red gaze searched for its source amidst the shadows of a fading dusk. In the light of the silver moon, he caught sight of a cloaked figure walking the snowy paths past the barren hedges and flower bushes. By her walk, it wasn't difficult to tell who it was. Sharon often took walks alone to clear her head, much to Break's anxiety. He never liked when she was alone… when he wasn't there to protect her like he should.

"Boy… I don't think I've ever seen her that… angry." Oz blinked at him from across the balcony, Raven standing behind him avoiding Break's gaze and Alice sitting at the other side of the table, chewing on her fingers.

Break couldn't help but glare at the teenager, narrowing his eye in irritation. "Be quiet, you… annoying, uncute… brat."

He ignored Oz's own frustrated frown as he turned, and retreated into the warmth of the Rainsworth house. The thought just came to him, a tempting idea for a quiet night spent reading by the fireplace. He was about to give in to that desire – he was even heading down the hall toward the study – when a scream shattered the quiet winter air.


	3. Chapter 2: Ignorant Slaughter

_**A/N: **_**I know... Really short, but I just had to end it there. XP Who doesn't love a good cliffie?**

**Visit my DA gallery for the illustration of this scene! =D**

**Chapter 2:**

_**Ignorant Slaughter**_

Koba stood over the dead, smoking carcass of a Dark One, blood staining his white lips which were still curled in a merciless snarl.

Moments before, he'd seen the Rainsworth heiress leave the house for the gardens. He'd followed at a distance, keeping close eye on her while not leaving his post at the perimeter. But when he'd seen the evasive shadow creeping its way through the hedges to greet her at the center… He knew he'd had to do something. He'd trailed the wolf quietly, avoiding any twig that might snap and alert it of his presence, and caught it just before it rounded the corner to meet the girl. Only a snarl had escaped it before his jaws had clamped down on its throat and squeezed until the monster writhed no more.

And the heiress chose that moment to step around the corner, and scream at the top of her lungs. Instantly, Koba's body went rigid, and he perked his ears toward her. His gaze followed, and he spotted her just at the corner of the hedge, hugging the frail, vine-like branches as if they would save her life. Her pink eyes were wide, her gaze on him and never straying.

He would have been content to stand there until she turned and fled in her pathological fear. But when the blur of white, purple, and crimson vaulted over the wall of vinery just behind her, his plans changed.

The guardian had arrived.

And his blade was drawn.

Eyes widening, Koba took a step back in anticipation of an attack. The human was smirking, with just a hint of vengeance, and bloodlust in the wine-red eye that wasn't hidden behind the fringe of silver hair.

"You crossed the wrong heiress," said he, wielding the blade. It made a ringing arc through the winter air. "And now, you will pay for it."

_Time to go! _Abandoning the body of his victim, Koba turned on his haunches and sprinted away with a surprising burst of speed. By the heavy clomp of boots on the cobblestone path behind him, he knew that the guardian was following.

_Great, now what do I do? _It wasn't difficult to keep track of where the human was, and how close he drew, for despite all their numerous skills, most humans were incredibly loud. Koba snorted. _And Gianaval says I'm loud…_

He glanced back only once, and caught sight of the fluttering tail of the white overcoat as the guardian came round the bend right on his tail. And then, he knew it was time to change tactics. It was much too easy for a human to follow on just a clear pathway…

"Time to go off road," the young wolf muttered to himself, before making a hairpin turn straight through a break in the base of the hedge. He slipped through easily, but the human was not so lucky.

Pausing, he heard the guardian curse under his frosty breath.

_Watch your mouth, human… _A small growl almost escaped his throat.

A shadow blocked out the moon, and Koba looked up just in time to leap away before the white boots made contact with the stone, and the blade swiped through the air where he'd stood just moments before.

"You're quick," said the guardian, that same unnerving smile on his pale face. "Good thing, too. Otherwise, you'd be dead by now."

Koba fought the urge to respond, and instead bolted away again, ducking under the next hedge. The guardian followed quicker this time, and Koba didn't have time to stop running. He darted through a small orchard of barren fruit trees, weaving in and out through their trunks, over a rock bed, and then came to the brick wall. Without a single glance back, he flew over it, and landed in a soft snow drift on the other side.

The footsteps still followed. The white wolf took off up the hill before they stilled, signaling the human's jump over the wall as well.

Koba raced through the snow, not caring about leaving tracks as he aimed for the treeline at the crest of the hill. His breath came in short pants that puffed white in the coldness and were gone as he ran through them. The air froze his nostrils, and dried his tongue.

He reached the edge, glanced back at the small figure of the following human, and then turned his gaze to the shadows under the trees. He looked closely at each one for whom he sought, for he knew the old wolf had to be there somewhere.

"Gianaval!" he barked, "Gianaval! Please, I know you're there! Answer me! Or… help me, do something!"

Nothing but silence answered him. And in that silence, which seemed to grow deeper by the moment, he felt an unnatural chill travel his spine, and he shuddered. He angled his ears back to listen for the footsteps of the human and, to his horror, he found none.

All was silent. Absolutely silent.

_Where did he go? _He whirled about in all directions, trying to catch sight of something, anything that would give away the deadly predator's position. _He couldn't just disappear… Come out!_

A flash of silver. The ring of metal. Koba whirled just in time to see the blade come plunging down at him…

He didn't feel any pain. One moment, he saw the blade protruding from his chest. Saw the crimson blood as it stained his pure coat.

And then a blast of white light sent them both flying in different directions, and all went black in Koba's world.


	4. Chapter 3: Awakened

**A/N: Not sure how I like this chapter... But. Anyway. There it is. XP And the illustration of this scene can also be found on my DA profile.**

**Chapter 3:**

**_Awakened_**

Light slowly filtered through the deep darkness. Silver light. Dim light. Then his eyelid lifted, and he blinked – once, twice, three times – before his vision was able to bring the woods about him into focus. Moonlight glittered on the snow-laden branches. And all was still.

His gaze darted about; what had happened? He'd killed the wolf, and then… Light. And darkness. And now?

A pungent scent made him wrinkle his nose; the clearing reeked of blood! Stronger than anything he'd ever encountered. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He attempted to push himself up, and met with resistance. What… What was this? What… Why couldn't he move freely? Something constricted him… He flailed – perhaps he was glad no one was around… - and felt, again, something cut his movement short, and caught a glimpse of white cloth.

His… jacket?

It sounded like an immature practical joke – something Oz-kun would do. Stitch the jacket shut, and tighten the seams to make it impossible to move in… But Oz-kun wasn't here. Nobody was. And… he hadn't been unconscious for that long… had he?

He writhed against the fabric, which didn't feel right… Something was definitely amiss. It felt too taught at his shoulders, and too loose at the collar. A wave of a sort of claustrophobic instinct hit him, and he clawed at what bound him. He tried to wriggle out, tried to escape this strange new prison, but it was all in vain.

He paused, stilling himself, when he noticed something… He was biting the collar. And pulling at it, tearing at it. His teeth tore right through it. What was going on here?

An unnatural yelp fled his lips as he released the cloth, and tried to leap away from it. But it continued to entangle him on all sides, not letting go. Minutes that felt like hours ticked by as he fought against its hold, biting, ripping, mauling. It still did not give, and he soon exhausted himself in his frantic efforts.

He did not know why that foreign panic welled in his throat and made him struggle so – Xerxes Break never lost his head. Everyone knew that. Not like this, anyway… He'd faced children more intimidating than a flimsy jacket… And yet, here he was, toiling on without a plan as if the article of clothing would eat him at any moment! If there was any time that he felt pitiful, it was now.

"Come on, now, Xerxes…" he muttered to himself. "Calm down… Look around, and assess the situation."

And so he did so. And caught sight of another body not three feet from him. Covered in white fur, mangled with blood… and deathly still.

The wolf. He lifted his head in an attempt to get a closer look, but without standing up, he couldn't be sure if it was actually dead… Then, movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned just as a snarl broke the night silence, and a blur of silver-grey fell upon him.

Colors blurred in a whirl of struggling figures and flashing teeth. The grey wolf snapped the fabric about him in its jaws and, with fluid motions, began tearing it apart.

_Rip! Shred! Tear!_

Despite Break's struggling under its massive weight – he fought and kicked and scratched at it – no fabric could ever be a match for a wolf's iron jaws. They tore it like paper, and he soon found himself freed. Leaping to his feet… All fours? He didn't know what was going on, but nothing felt right. Hair on the back of his neck bristled, and his lips unconsciously pulled back to reveal his teeth. A guttural growl rumbled in his throat.

_What has happened to me?_

He shook, and snow flew from his body. From… a coat of white hair. Looking down at his hands, his eye widened at the sight of not fingers, but long arched toes that came to sinister points at the end of ivory claws, half buried in the snow.

"Gah!"

He tried and, of course, failed to jump away from himself, head turning back and forth in order to get full view of himself. From the white fur, to four legs, to stiff pointed ears, and a long bushy tail… He was a wolf. It was as simple as that.

His gaze darted back to the wolf that had freed him. The great grey beast stood tall over the pile of fabric that lay torn and strewn about the snow. He saw now that the dead wolf's blood spattered it, staining both white and purple cloth red. Glancing back and forth from the dead one to the live one, he finally found his voice again and attempted to recompose himself.

"You… You know what's happened, so tell me!" he barked. It felt odd knowing that his voice was coming from a long, toothy snout. Involuntarily, he ran his tongue over the insides of his teeth, feeling the point of each and every one…

The grey one stared at him a long moment. Never had he seen a gaze so unnerving… He'd always been the master of that. No other person could ever come close to his practiced manic grin and crimson glare. But these golden eyes… So deep. So bright. So… full of wisdom, and pain. Particularly now; the sorrow was ever so clear…

It turned its grey head toward the dead wolf – who, now by comparison, looked very young – and let a sigh escape its black nose in a puff of white. "He had done no wrong… And yet, you did not spare him your blade, human."

Break frowned; he felt the fur on the scruff of his neck bristling again. "He was a threat-"

"And to him, so were you." The wolf turned his gaze back to him, eyes flashing. "And yet I did not see him go for your throat. Which he could have done so easily – he was a soldier. Young, but strong. You never would have survived, had he decided to unleash his fury as you have."

The somber wisdom and quiet anger in the wolf's voice silenced him immediately, and he unconsciously took a single step backward.

Then, realization dawned on him. _Ah! I'm dreaming – of course! No real animal reasons so deeply; it's a dream, and soon, I'll wake up again. Back in the mansion. Perhaps even the scene at the balcony was nothing more than a figment of my imagination…_

The recognition of this situation for what it really was brought instant relaxation, and it must have showed on his countenance, for the larger wolf stiffened.

"This is no game, human," said he, bristling as well. "Perhaps I should bite you – then see how serious all this really is."

"No, no." Break cocked his head, letting his characteristic smile stretch his mouth. "That won't be necessary."

Those golden eyes narrowed, and then the wolf turned his head to the east, where the moon was hanging low in the sky, casting its silver shafts of light over the great landscape. From here, at the crest of the hill, Break could look out over the entirety of the Rainsworth property, including much of the gardens, and the west wing of the house. By memory, he could trace the extent of the brick wall that signified the border of the land belonging to the dukedom, and that which did not.

When he looked back to the grey wolf, he noted that it had moved over to stand by the dead one, and was hanging its head low over the neck of the other. Its piercing eyes were now closed.

"He was like a son to me…" Its voice was barely a whisper. "So young, he was… In his prime." Snorting icy breath, it lifted its head again. "But now, I shall have to wait for the golden shores to see him again…" It slowly lifted its gaze back to Break, and the pain in its eyes was as real as ever.

"Why must young ones like him die… and the old and fading like me continue on?"

The unanswerable but oh so real question hit him like a physical blow, halted his current thoughts, and stopped him in his tracks. That… was such a good question.

The old wolf returned to his feet, and turned away, back to the moon and face toward the shrouded underbrush. "Come, human. It would seem that you are, for the moment, trapped – in a form that very much does not belong to you. Until we can find a way to help you… it is safer with the rest of us."

Break watched as the creature began a slow walk back into the woods, all the while, the sober question running laps in his mind.

What sort of a world had he stumbled into?

"My name… is… Xerxes."

The wolf paused, turning back toward him once more. Its once sharp gaze softened as he stared long and hard at the white wolf before him. Finally, the slightest hint of a smile tilted its black lips upward.

"I am Gianaval."


	5. Chapter 4: The Beginning of Recompense

**A/N: Here it is, a longer chapter to make up for my previous shorter ones! ^_^ I rather like this one... Let me know what you think of the OCs introduced. I know this one has a little less action in it... But I hope it's satisfactory anyways. ~Penelope**

**Chapter 4:**

**_The Beginning of Recompense_**

Just as they were about to exit the clearing, Break paused, and looked back. He then turned and loped back to the mass of torn fabric. Just plunging back into that scent of death made him want to gag, but he pushed aside the numerous patches until he finally found what he sought. After contemplating ways of carrying it, there seemed to be only one way of doing it. So, very gently, he picked up the object in his jaws, and only then did he return to Gianaval, his rescued possession cradled lightly in his teeth. Matted chestnut hair swayed with each step.

Once again by the large wolf's side, he caught the odd glance that Gianaval sent the raggedy thing with the frozen smile all as unnerving as Break's. He simply snorted, unable to respond verbally anyway; Gianaval cocked a brow, but said nothing as he continued to lead the way.

They left the clearing behind – though, Gianaval said he would be sending others back for Koba's body – and traversed the vast forest that graced the foothills of the distant mountains. Everything was quiet in its winter slumber; not a creature stirred at this time of night. The two wolves were utterly alone in the emptiness. While Break found the silence a tad discomforting, Gianaval seemed completely at peace, contented in it. There were still traces of sadness etched over the aged dog's face, the initial shock, anger, and lament seemed to be wearing off to leave a growing tiredness.

This wolf had seen much pain, and loss. Break could tell that simply by the reactions he'd seen. His sorrow passed so quickly to resignation… it could only come from those experienced in suffering.

"The others… may not know what to think of you," the old wolf said as they walked through the tall drifts. Gianaval kept his head above the snow easily, while Break was continuously plunging into it face-first. Bound, _thump_, flail, shake. Bound, _thump_, flail, shake.

Gianaval didn't seem to notice his plight. "This has not happened in many years… Since then, most of the Elders who guided the council in those years have taken the journey to the golden shores. We have many young, opinionated, inexperienced members, now. And you will become their prime target."

"Sounds pleasant…"

The grey wolf laughed. "Don't sound so hopeless. I'm sure there will be at least a few willing to help you as our temporary guest."

_A few. That's very encouraging. _

The woods soon gave way to an open meadow covered in several feet of hard, icy snow. Gianaval paused at the treeline, countenance sobering as he glanced to and fro over the openness. At the far end of the clearing, stood tall a great pinnacle of rock, jutting from the earth and looking completely out of place. Compared to the gentle slope of the hills and the uniform army of evergreens, the boulder looked rugged, and dangerous. Craggy and dark, it was dotted with many nooks and ledges and overhangs, which could be the perfect hiding places for any sort of creature.

Taking slow, deliberate steps, the grey one walked out onto the hardened snow. He left shallow pawprints on what little loose snow was left on the top, but the layers below supported the big animal's full weight. Break looked about, curious as to what made the wolf so cautious – it was one of the most well-known predators in the world – and then followed suit behind his guide. He took three steps after him, and then the fourth broke right through the ice, and his foreleg plunged into snow clear up to his shoulder. With a crack, and a _whoosh_, the rest of him followed, and white powder spilled over him.

He heard Gianaval's laugh from his little self-made pit, and glowered at the snow covering his snout.

"Look before you take each step," came the deep voice. "Test the steadiness of the ice before you lean all of your weight onto it. Paths of solid snow aren't hard to find – you just have to look for them. Otherwise…" His voice trailed off as he peered down into the hole where Break lay half-buried in snow. "You'll have a time getting out."

"Oh…" He bit back the 'shut up'. Gianaval was a stranger to him, barely an acquaintance, and his elder… maybe. Then again, perhaps not… Anyway, it would be disrespectful to say such things out loud. Instead, he groaned, and pushed himself back up to his feet. Gianaval backed up as he readied himself for the jump back out.

He picked Emily back up, crouched, and leaped… and fell right through again. Gianaval snickered.

"Not so hard – you don't need effort, you need grace. Finesse. Gentleness. Don't throw your weight into it so; land toes first."

_I've got it, I've got it… _He shook the snow off his face, and braced himself again.

He fell through a few more times before he finally packed down enough snow to form a ramp back up to the surface. He emerged to see Gianaval settled on his belly in the snow, chin resting on his front paws as he waited.

Break snorted, setting the blue doll at his feet. "I didn't take that long."

"Long enough; shouldn't have been down there in the first place." But the wolf was smiling as he stood, and nodded his head toward the rocky crag. "Ready, then?"

A number of retorts jumped to his tongue, all of which he swallowed before they escaped. He nodded, and after picking his little friend right back up, followed closer behind Gianaval when he began moving again. He looked more carefully before each step, and put his weight only on the solid patches of ice. The rest of the way to the pinnacle went very smoothly, if he did say so himself.

As they neared the jutting rock, he began to spot movement along its narrow ledges. By now, the moon was high in the midnight sky, and in its light, forms could be seen moving back and forth, and up and down over the jagged stone, some bounding and leaping, others moseying along at their own quiet pace… But it would seem that this rock was a hub of activity.

"Hello the pack!" called Gianaval.

"Hullo, Great Sire!" came the return, from a voice at the top of the crest. The forms began to gather at the base of the rock, where it would seem a shelf of stone kept them from falling through the snow.

Now, they were close enough, that Break could see each and every face of each and every wolf that gathered to greet them. Many of them – perhaps close to a dozen – from the old and grey to the young and blossoming. As Gianaval stepped off the high drifts onto the slab of rock, with Break just behind him, all sat back on their haunches, and bowed their heads low. Then, with a fatherly smile on his face, Gianaval bid them all rise, and each did so with a grin on his or her face. The simple, yet deep respect of the reception chased all words from his mind – why couldn't people be that way?

A wolf whose coat was no single shade of brown slipped through the ring, and approached Gianaval. The two wolves touched foreheads, and the brown one stepped back, and glanced about.

"You've returned so soon; where… where is Koba?" Cobalt eyes turned toward Break. "Who is this?"

The old wolf's expression sobered immediately, and Break felt that irritating stab of guilt in his chest. He'd done this to Gianaval, and to all these others… What would they think of him when they found he was to blame for their brother's meaningless death?

"Koba… knew the risks of his watch. He knew the dangers… of both wolf and man." The grey head lifted to look the brown one in the eye. "Koba is dead."

A murmured hush fell over all those about them, and a look of disbelief tainted with horror befell the brown one. He stared long and hard at Gianaval, as if silently begging him to say it was just a cruel joke. But no such words came from those grizzled black lips, and the brown wolf was then overtaken by grief.

The grey-blue eyes darted to Break again, and he repeated in a low voice. "Who is this?"

Gianaval glanced back as well, and the softer look on his aged face stilled the sinking feeling in Break's gut. At least someone here looked past his mistake… "This is Xerxes."

Those blue eyes widened considerably. "The guardian!"

Gianaval nodded. "Yes. The guardian."

"What… Wh-What happened? How did it happen? This…"

"Calm yourself, Binde. It was all a mistake – nothing more, nothing less."

The wolf called Binde snorted white breath, and his stare began its transformation into a glare. "What was all a mistake?"

"Koba stopped a Dark One from getting to the heiress, and then-"

"KOBA!"

The shrill voice dripping with despair cut through all conversation, just as a blur of silver cut through the surrounding crowd. It made a beeline for Break; he'd just dropped Emily when he found himself tackled to the ground. His head cracked hard against the stone, and he grimaced. Then he looked up into a snarling silver face, and icy eyes of matching color.

"You monster!"

Gianaval was beside them in an instant, pushing the younger wolf away. "Lotus! How dare you attack a guest!"

Lotus growled through tears that dripped down his silver snout, and fell onto Break's forehead. "He's no guest! He's a murderer, I say! A murderer!"

"Lotus, get off this instant!" barked Binde before latching his jaws onto the young one's ear and pulling back. Lotus yelped, and was forced to back away from Break, though tears still streaked his face.

"He killed Koba, Father! Don't you understand? That's what the Great Sire's been trying to say…" Lotus broke from Binde's hold, and stared hard at the brown wolf, breathing hard. Break, in the meantime, was pushing himself back to his feet.

_The second time tonight I've been thrown on my back by a snarling wolf… _he thought to himself with a shake of his head. He glanced to Gianaval, who looked at him with concern.

"Are you all right?" he said quietly, as Lotus ranted to Binde.

Break nodded. "I'm just fine, thank you," he attempted to say without too much 'it'll take more than a little punk kid to throw me down and out' in there…

"Gianaval, is what my son claims true?" said Binde, turning to the grey one, who nodded somberly.

"Yes… I'm afraid it is, my friend. Our dear son Koba was slain at the hands of the heiress' guardian, who was only protecting his mistress, as he should. He could not have known that Koba's intention was for good, not evil. Particularly after past attacks by the Dark Ones, and the heiress' fear of our kind." Gianaval shook his head, looking Binde hard in the eye. "Do not blame him for Koba's death. It was an accident, and it is past. What's done is done – we shall see Koba again, in a much better place. You know that."

"You took him from us!" said Lotus, voice strained, staring straight at Break. The young wolf took several deep breaths, glancing between them all. "He's gone, and it's all this… this… _human_'s fault, don't you get that? And yet, you're just… bringing him here like he belongs, and calling him a 'guest'? I can't even stand to look at him anymore…" He shook his silver head. "I'll… I'll be back. Later."

He cast Break a glance as if he wanted to add a 'You'd better be gone' afterward, but he simply loped off into the meadow, shouldering him on the way past, hard enough to knock him aside.

Break stared after the broken pup until he disappeared into the darkness of the woods, guilt pounding all the harder at his mind like a hammer on a bell, the consistant _dong, dong, dong _of its toll making him feel sick to his stomach. If he'd had any idea that Koba's death would impact so hard…

"Forgive me for my son's behavior…" came Binde's voice, and Break turned his gaze back to the brown animal. The other wolf sat back on his haunches, and looked genuinely apologetic, if not embarrassed. "He is… Can be an emotional sort at times. He has not had experience with strangers, as we are all family here." The grey-blue orbs were much softer now, though still tinted with sorrow.

"You are welcome here, with us," he continued, and offered Break a smile.

Break himself was dumbfounded. This creature had seemed so devastated when he heard that the white wolf had been killed at his hand… for no reason in particular beyond a misunderstanding. He recalled now, catching a fleeting glance at the black wolf lying dead on the garden path… He'd assumed the two wolves had been at it for no reason, like animals were prone to do… Had he been wrong. Koba had been trying to protect Sharon, his mistress – the wolf had been after the same goal as he was when he killed it. And yet… After all that, here Binde was, welcoming him?

It made no sense.


	6. Chapter 5: Misunderstanding

**Chapter 5:**

**_Misunderstanding_**

Break lay on the cold, hard-packed snow just beyond the ledge of an overhang, chin on his paws and ears forward to discreetly listen in on the conversation currently taking place between Binde and his mate.

"Perhaps you were too hard on him, Binde."

The male shook his head, closing his eyes and sighing softly in exasperation. "No, Katana – his behavior was completely inacceptable. You know that; he will be punished for it."

"As soon as he gets back?" Katana's icy eyes glinted in the sinking moonlight. "Dear one, the moment a prodigal returns in not the time for rebuke! I for one don't want to push him further away; can we not have mercy on him?"

Binde snorted. "Again? He has had enough chances; he takes advantage of our grace and uses it to do whatever he wants. He uses us, Katana! I am sure, deep down, he truly does care, but… He should act like it if he desires to keep his privileges in the pack. A pack sticks together – even in pain, we do not run off, shirk our responsibilities just to 'think things through'. It is our unity that makes us strong, and enables us to persevere."

"I know that, Binde." Katana's soft voice began to harden. "But if we crack down on him the moment he returns, he may run off again and never return! And… I couldn't handle that, atop everything else… So much is happening… Our numbers are dwindling, Binde; as the area becomes more populated with humans, more and more of us are pushed out, or slaughtered. My father was shot down in his sleep not two months ago! And his pack has ceased to be heard of – we have no way of knowing what happened to them. I… I don't want my son to go missing as well… I can't loose him, too."

"Everyone is grieving right now, my love… We are being hard pressed; it's more difficult now than ever before to continue in our duty – to protect the Wielders of the Light."

"Yes, but if that duty gets in the way of this, our family? Binde… which is more important to you? Tell me – me and your son, or your duty as a servant of the Lightmaker*?"

There was a long pause, and Break could not see Binde's expression against the moon beyond the silhouette of his profile. Soon, the wolf lowered his head.

"You ask me to choose between two halves of myself, Katana… Do not make me answer that question."

The female stared long and hard at her mate before rising to her feet, shaking the snow from her sleek black and white body. "Perhaps I should give you time to think about it. But I do want an answer… eventually, Binde. Eventually." Without another word, she turned on her heel and padded over to the ledge that led the way up the pinnacle, to a cave a few levels higher, where she disappeared into the shadows.

Another knife of guilt plunged into his already puncture-ridden soul. It was ultimately his doing that caused this rift between the two. Koba's death led to Lotus' reaction, and Lotus' reaction was the subject of their conflict. Had he never gone after that white wolf, none of this would have ever happened. He would be sleeping soundly in his quarters in the mansion just beyond the woods, in that dozing sort of state he always did in order to listen closely to the room next door.

Sharon had occasional nightmares, ones of red-eyed wolves with gleaming fangs who came, attacked her sickly mother, and killed her. Then they would proceed to murder her grandmother, and finally come for her.

He still remembered the night she'd woken up screaming for the first time in years, when he'd rushed in to calm her, and she'd told him of her latest nightmare… The wolves came for her, and in her dream, Break himself stood between she and them. But, it was a weak, broken man that stood against them, not the 'strong guardian' she knew. And those creatures easily overpowered him… and killed him as well.

Perhaps she had returned to the mansion, gone to sleep knowing that he would slay her monster, and return to continue guarding over her as he always did. Perhaps she was even having a nightmare right this moment… And he wasn't there to come chase the foul apparition away.

And now, with everything that had happened, the nightmares… seemed more than nightmares. If Break could be transformed into a wolf, and animals could talk, and reason, and plan… Could there truly be merit to her dreams?

Or was that taking the unbelievable too far into the impossible?

_*The term 'Lightmaker' belongs to James Byron Huggins, from his novel, '_A Wolf Story_'._

_~Guardian~_

"Gilbert, Oz-kun… I'm worried."

"About what?" Oz looked up from the pastry he was nibbling on just long enough to meet Sharon's concerned gaze.

Sharon herself frowned, tensing the slightest. "What do you think? I'm worried about Break – he should have been back by now."

"You're worried about the Clown?" Alice said incredulously with a raised brow from her place sitting upside down on her chair by the tea table. "He can take care of himself! We all know that. Besides – he disappears all the time without telling you where he goes, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but not like this." Sharon looked back out, over the silver-lined garden hedges, toward the woods, in the direction she had last seen her guardian disappear to. If only she could look past all the foliage and snow, and find Break just by thinking about him… "Not after something like that. Usually, he… he'd come right back… to be sure I was all right."

Oz snorted. "Okay, that… sounds really vain, no offense to you…"

_Whap!_

Oz was then hiding behind Gilbert, rubbing the new welt on the back of his head with a grimace. "Sheesh! Who knew fans could hurt so much…"

Sharon clasped her fan in her hands, and looked once more out over the landscape. Then she sighed, and picked her cloak up off the table. "I'm going to look… Will you three accompany me?"

Alice shrugged, swiveling to sit up straight, as her face had begun to turn red from the amount of blood rushing to it. "I've got nothing better to do."

"And in the case of danger, me and Gil can protect you," proclaimed Oz, stepping out of his hiding place and folding his arms over his chest. "Gil never misses, and I've got some pretty sweet moves, myself. Those wolves will wish they never met you, Sharon-sama."

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Of course… Let's go." She latched the cloak about her shoulders, and stepped back inside to head down to the garden door. The others followed, and she thought she heard Gil muttering something about wolves being better than cats…

The night air was at its coldest as they traversed the gardens – it was always that way just before dawn… Sharon located the place where she met the wolf, and found that the black carcass had disappeared. But of course, she only dwelt on this for a moment before continuing on in search of signs that Break and the white wolf had been through that way. She found broken hedge limbs, scuffs on the cobblestone, settled flurries of snow. All making their way toward the brick wall that signified the end of the Rainsworth property. And soon enough, they came to said wall, where the smooth ridge of snow resting along the top was marred by a single footprint.

"They went… outside the wall?" Sharon muttered to herself, gingerly resting her fingers in the print, caressing the ridges left by the sole of her guardian's boot.

"You'd think that was obvious," Oz grumbled, and just barely dodged another whap from her fan.

"Gil, give me a boost!" Sharon waited for Gil to lock his fingers together to form a step for her, and then carefully stepped up and over the wall. "Thank you… Now, come on!"

Alice vaulted over the wall, followed by Oz, ending with Gilbert's easy jump over. Then, the foursome continued to follow the tracks – both human and wolf – up the steep hill toward the crest.

Sharon herself was wondering just how far Break had been willing to chase the animal. All the way into the woods? Why would he do such a thing? The woods were wilderness, the wolves' very own territory, which they knew by sight, sound, and scent. And between bare arching branches, and the thick greenery of the evergreens, not as much snow could blow in to the forest floor. If one wasn't careful, there was no doubt one could get lost.

So, why would Break continue on to the woods, after he'd already chased the wolf back where it belonged?

In her pondering, she'd slowed her pace, and the others, not wanting to lose momentum up the incline, continued on to the top. She saw them stop suddenly, and her smooth brow creased with a frown.

"Uh… Sharon-sama?" came Oz's wary voice. "You… might want to hurry up."

There was a foreign concern in his voice, and it was enough to make her pick up her pace again. She gripped her skirts in her fists to take longer strides, and soon found herself behind the others. She quickly followed their gazes, to see what had them spooked.

Perhaps nothing could have prepared Sharon for what she saw.

Blood. Everywhere. It bathed the snow at the edge of the tree line, staining everything within a three-meter circle crimson. Including… a pile of barely recognizable fabric.

But it was recognizable enough to her. She shoved her way between Oz and Gilbert, and stumbled forward into the blood-stained snow, not heeding it as she sank to her knees beside the shreds of cloth. She reached out to touch it, and hesitated. Her eyes began to burn.

How could this have happened?

An image, a memory of hideous starving black wolves closing in on all sides… Their clicking jaws, their bloodthirsty eyes, their flashing teeth.

They'd… They'd gotten Break… at last…

Her throat constricted. How could they have reached him? Then again… That time so long ago, it was only half a dozen. Had they brought more? Closed in more aggressively? Risking their own blood to take him as their meal?

Whatever the case… They'd won. And now, she sat in white snow stained with his blood, cradling the bloodied, shredded jacket she knew so well against her chest. She felt the tears streaming down her face, but didn't realize she was sobbing – she couldn't hear herself. All she could hear was the absence of her guardian, telling her it was all nothing more than a bad dream, that everything was all right, that everyone she knew and loved was safe and sound.

The guardian, to whom the last thing she said was a stab straight for his heart, meant to sting, to hurt, to ache.

She never got to apologize.

Sharon Rainsworth was near hysterical as she buried her face against the once white fabric, letting it absorb her tears. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry… Break… _Break!_"

_~Guardian~_

Break knew something was wrong the moment Gianaval approached him. He saw the tight frown ruffling the fur on that grey head, saw the intenseness of those golden eyes, and stood up straightaway.

"What's wrong?"

Gianaval stared at him grimly, and nodded out to the meadow. "Come with me. There is something you need to see."

Confused, Break simply nodded. Gianaval then turned and loped across the snow. How he didn't fall through at his harsh pace, Break had no idea, but he followed anyway, right behind him, so as not to fall through as well. They crossed the clearing, and began to weave their way through the thick woods. It wasn't long before he began to see signs of familiarity… and the long trenches in the snow were unmistakable.

They were going back to the place of Koba's death.

But why? The posse sent out an hour ago had already brought back the white wolf's body. What more could be there?

He'd left Emily back at the rock, and so he could speak freely this time.

"Where are we going, Gianaval? And why so fast?" He matched paces with the old wolf as he drew alongside him, and they raced ahead neck and neck.

Gianaval didn't glance toward him. "Ask questions later; just know we must hurry before it's too late."

_Too late? Too late for what?_

Break nearly burst through a wall of underbrush when Gianaval skidded to a stop. He felt the other wolf's jaws clamp down on his scruff to jerk him to a halt before he could do so, and he just barely escaped that fate. When he righted himself, he turned sheepishly to Gianaval, who only turned to peer over the brush.

He did the same, and his red eye widened at what he saw.

Pandora agents. At least six of them, not including Liam, who stood further from the tree line with… Break gasped. Raven, Oz, Alice… and a broken Sharon. All looked grim, but she… she looked devastated. Her eyes were red, and puffy from tears, and she buried her face against Liam's shoulder. Liam patted her hair with one hand, and in the other… held a too-familiar bundle of blood-stained clothing.

"What happened here?" Break said under his breath, though not really expecting Gianaval to answer. He then turned his ears forward, straining them in an effort to hear what was being said.

"It isn't hard to tell what happened…" Liam was saying, closing his eyes and bowing his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Sharon… You were right. All the evidence is clear."

Sharon choked back a sob. "Liam-san… I want a special patrol put into place. The best guns we have – Gilbert, I want you to head them up."

The determination and passion behind her next words made his heart swell, but the words themselves brought dread at the same moment.

"Kill every wolf on sight."

Liam looked a tad hesitant, but shook his head, glancing to Gilbert. He wasn't about to refuse the grieving heiress. "Very well, milady… It will be done."

"They think the Dark Ones slaughtered you, Xerxes," said Gianaval in a soft voice beside him. "They cannot see what is beyond their finite minds – they see the blood, and the tattered clothes, and the absence of your body, and that is all they know, all they can grasp. They will never guess that you are right behind the brush at this moment, listening to every word they say."

Break moved to leap into the open. "I have to-"

Weight shoved him aside and sent him sprawling a few feet back. He looked up with a surprised expression at Gianaval, who stood in his path with a hard, grim resolve.

"Did you not hear her order? Every wolf! Killed on sight! And at the moment, you look very much like a wolf. They'd kill you before you reached the wall."

Break jumped to his feet, brow furrowing into an expression just as hard. "Wolves can speak – I never knew that until tonight. I can tell them what happened!"

"And do you truly believe they would give you the chance to speak your piece before pulling the trigger?"

That stopped him. He snapped his mouth shut, swallowing the retort he was about to make. His gaze dropped to the ground, darting to and fro as if he were searching for something – an answer, perhaps?

Would they give him the moment to speak, if he jumped out right this moment?

_"Kill every wolf on sight."_

No… They wouldn't. His heart sank in disappointment, and frustration, while at the same time reaching out to the weeping girl a mere six yards away. He longed to be in Liam's place, comforting his charge as he was meant to.

But it was his doing that caused it, all of it. His mistake, which led to this misunderstanding. To Sharon's grieving over a dead guardian who was still very much alive. And still watching her.

**A/N: Okay! Much longer chapter this time! XP What do you think of Katana? Do you have any theories of what's going to happen? Any things you'd like to see happen, now that most of the major OCs (besides the Villain) have been introduced?**


	7. Chapter 6: The Dark Side

**A/N: Yes, I know, I know... Another really short one. Shortest one yet, actually. But! You get a sneak peek at what's going on on the other side. Opinions? Leave a review! XP**

**Chapter 6:**

**_The Dark Side_**

"Breoc!"

The black wolf looked up toward the crow that perched atop the cold dark stone. It eyed him with its red eyes, and squawked. "She will see you now."

Breoc nodded, and continued on through the doorway at the end of the corridor. The stale air barely moved in his slow wake, and his red gaze created a scarlet aura about his head as he entered into the dark room. The shadows hid any and all forms, save for that of a great looming throne, covered in bleached bones and lit by but a small shaft of moonlight that streamed in from a hole in the ceiling high above.

The wolf sunk into a low bow, awaiting instruction.

For the longest moment, nothing moved. There was a breath of sound from the throne, but its occupant was hidden in the shadows of its high arch. Only a pair of glowing green eyes shone out, staring intently down at him.

"Rise, General. I hear you have news for me."

Breoc rose, nodding as he did so. He kept his head bowed as he spoke, for even a great Dark One such as he could not dare look the Beast in the eye. "Yes, Mistress. The guardian… is dead."

Those green eyes widened, and when she spoke again, her voice rang with disbelief. "Dead? How can that be? I thought he was impossible to kill."

"Apparently not. The humans blame the Dark Ones, but his true killer remains unknown. They found his clothes, bloody and torn at the border of the woods. And wolf prints all over the snow around it. They assumed the worst – now, the heiress has ordered a task force to be established, with the Raven as their head. I heard that his brother will also be joining them. They are all ordered to kill any wolf on sight."

Silence fell over them. He heard her shift, her fur rustling against the cool smooth stone. She sighed, and he could almost feel the warmth of her hungry breath.

"Hm… How… interesting. Truly an unexpected development." The green eyes closed for a moment. "They are certain he's dead?"

Breoc nodded. "Certain, milady."

"And… there will be a funeral for him, yes?"

"More than likely."

Her eyes opened again, and he could almost see her smile, whiskers twitching. "Well, then… Perhaps we shall have to use this… unfortunate… misinterpretation… to our advantage."

He felt a grin tugging at his black lips. "And how will we do that, majesty?"

She chuckled, the purring sound rolling over him like her wicked black breath. "Every mortal has their weakness. And her weakness is those she cares about. Take away all of that, and she will be too devastated to be a threat to the conflict. Then, Vessalius will be pleased and, in turn, so will the Dark Lord. And we shall have our reward."

A chuckle rolled itself up his throat. "I see. And what would our first objective be?"

"We'll take down the easy targets first. Send in Pythos after the grandmother."

"Yes, Desiree."


	8. Chapter 7: Advances

**Chapter 7:**

**_Advances_**

"I'm sorry, Mother… Father."

Lotus' remorse was genuine. He hung his silver head, eyes closed, as he stood before his parents, submitting himself to his punishment. Break paid close attention to the long look that Binde and Katana shared – her eyes hard and prodding, his softer, but still as determined.

Finally, Binde turned back to his son, and spoke in a soft voice. "Go to the cave… We shall discuss your consequences, and tell you by mealtime."

Lotus nodded, and looked up, squinting against the morning sun that stretched out its arms and turned the dark sky bright pink. He then began making his way up the ledges to the same cave that Katana had disappeared into the night previous. He cast Break a single glance, and those silver eyes regained some of their previous fire.

All the other wolves were at their own business. A few young pups playing out in the snow under the supervision of a single older one. The Elders perched at their posts atop the pinnacle of stone, watching out over the meadow. A few tracks left in the thin snow signaled the coming and going of others recently – Gianaval said that the shifts had changed. Sentries were coming in to rest while new, fresh ones went out to take their place.

"Where did they take Koba?" he said in a quiet voice, and Gianaval sighed. The old wolf stared out at the morning light; both lay on the snow-topped peak of the highest crag – the Alpha's rightful place, his throne of sorts. The very idea that Gianaval had invited Break to come sit by him boggled his mind.

"They took him to Stone Hill, where all of our honored warriors are buried. Had it been summer, it would only take a few hours to do the deed, but with the frost, the ground is hard. They will have to be quick; not only is the hill in full view of the mansion, but it is also on the border between our lands, and the Dark Reaches."

Break frowned as Gianaval's gaze turned just slightly to the left, to the north. He followed that gaze, where the landscape began its slope upward toward the distant mountains. A good few miles in that direction, stood a single hill, barren and lonely amidst the thick forest. The snow glistened on its crest, and he thought he could barely see three small dots of color on its white face.

"The Dark Reaches?"

Gianaval nodded, and lifted his nose a bit. "Yes – do you see? Beyond Stone Hill, past the Pit Marshes. In the mountains. Can you see it?"

Break looked hard, studying the snow-caps. A storm front seemed to be coming from the northwest, the blue-grey heads of the clouds looming higher than the peaks and streaming down their faces like a scarf, streaking with lightning. How odd, that was… A thunderstorm in the dead of winter? Shafts of cloud stretched out from the cell, as if reaching its vastness yet further. Under those clouds, behind the mountains, the storm grew so dark, so thick… He even spotted a twister in its murky depths, one that loomed over one mount in particular. This mountain stood higher than all the rest, and no snow settled on its ridges. It was utterly black under the shadow of the storm, and lightning continuously struck its face.

"You look startled, Xerxes. Have you never seen it before?"

His brow furrowed as he stared at the spectacle in awe and dread. Never had he seen something so… unnatural. Unearthly. Dark, foreboding. Just the sight of it set his hair on end, and made him want to return to the mansion even sooner, to be closer at his mistress' side…

"I've… never taken the time to notice. There were always clouds at the mountains, but… Not like that."

Gianaval nodded, looking down at his paws. "They have hidden it well from mankind. No man can see it clearly – but we see. As we have seen for many, many years. They cannot hide from us."

"Who?" The word was but a whisper from Break's lips, as the breath was stolen from him.

"The Dark Ones, and the Black Council. That is their haunt, their fortress – Shadow Peak. No servant of Light has ever entered into its walls, and returned alive."

Break's stare lingered at the nightmarish sight before slowly turning to his guide. "Gianaval… All of this is new to me. But… It would seem we are in greater danger than even I realized. Dark Ones, Black Council, Shadow Peak, Dark Reaches… What does it all mean?"

A wise air settled over the old wolf as he drew his head back. The thick mane about his neck created a sort of lining, like that which would adorn the collar of a king – and for a fleeting moment, the old wolf looked very royal indeed.

"It has been a conflict since the beginning of Time itself… Since the Dark Lord rebelled against the Lightmaker, and was sentenced to finite power here in this world. Each side has its followers – those of us, we follow the Light. But the Dark Ones – like the wolves that attacked you and your heiress all those years ago when she was but a child – believed the lies of the Deceiver, and he shared with them a portion of his power.

It has always been their goal to destroy all traces of Light, and what all is good in this world. They want to conquer, so they can rule. They have been promised riches and power beyond anything they can imagine, if they would only sell their soul to the Dark Lord. And in return, they do his bidding, in hopes that in the end, he would see them worthy of immortality, even deity."

_The Dark Ones… attacked you and your heiress all those years ago… _He recalled clearly the nightmare beasts that were the source of all Sharon's fears – with glowing scarlet eyes and coats as black as pitch – and his fur bristled.

"Their temperate power gives them unnatural strength, endurance, size and color. It stains their fur black with their iniquity, and they glory in it. They relish in their power, and have no desire to change anything. Some truly believe everything the Dark Lord tells them, while others follow him only because they are able to do whatever they want." A growl escaped Gianaval. "They thirst for the blood of Lightfollowers, and go out of their way to dwindle our numbers. Anything they can to rid the land of our influence, they will do. Whether innocents are caught in the fray or not."

A shiver wracked its way down Break's spine. Any other time, he would have been tempted to throw it all away as a story from the mouth of a crazy old man. But after seeing everything he had in a mere night… This seemed only a part of the puzzle.

"Why am I here, then?" he asked, looking back out at the mountains. "What's the purpose of it?"

"Your transformation?" Gianaval cocked his head, studying him. "Honestly… I'm not sure myself. But… the last time it happened… the man who joined a pack in the form of a wolf learned many things from them, and went back a better person, a stronger warrior… a hero."

_~Guardian~_

The early morning light lit the path for the creature known as Pythos to creep through the Rainsworth gardens, toward the mansion. He slide along the ground, under hedges and over drifts unseen by anyone. He came to the servants' entrance and, without a single glance back, slipped through an unnoticeable crevice in the doorframe. His body oozed through like water, and he found himself in the warmth of the kitchen within.

But he didn't stop to bask in the heat. He continued straight on through the room, maneuvering down halls and corridors. He made his way toward a room on the third level – a bed chambers, of a certain elderly woman.

He hid in corners when people passed by – particularly the hunter, the Chain, or the young master – and nobody paid him any heed. With his dark color and small form, he fitted easily into small spaces, and could hide practically in plain sight.

It seemed too easy, but he had expected no less. He was a master at his skill, the very reason why the Black Mistress had sent him on this mission. He could get in without being seen, do the deed, and get out again without a ruckus. The old woman would be dead within the hour, and no one would know how or why. Ah, the beauty of it…

He reached the bedroom, and slipped through a mousehole to the room on the other side of the door. But, to his surprise, it was empty. He glanced to and fro in search of his target, but found no sign of her. He cursed under his breath, and turned around. Now he would have to hunt for her… Usually, at this early hour, she was in her room, on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket as she read one of her favored books.

But something was different this morning. Perhaps it was the news of the guardian's unfortunate death?

He had just slithered out of the bedroom when the clomping of shoes on the hallway floor alerted him to an approaching human. By the time he looked up, it was too late. The maid screamed.

"SNAKE!"


	9. Chapter 8: Mentor?

**A/N: Ack! Sorry it took so long! I've had a busy month... But I'm back at it. X] This chappie doesn't have as much action... but there's a dilemma nonetheless. Let me know what you think!**

**Chapter 8:**

**_Mentor?_**

"The day is aging fast…" Gianaval rose to his feet, beckoning Break to do the same with a nod of his head. "And there is much you must learn if you are to survive with us."

Break lifted his brows as he stood and followed the old wolf down the pinnacle. The other wolves didn't seem to react as they passed – they seemed to have resigned themselves to his presence with surprising speed. The only one who looked up was a familiar silver canine, who's gaze spoke volumes of his opinion of Break. Lotus lifted his head as they went by.

"Hey, mister."

Break paused, and looked back at him.

The boy stood, and nudged something forward from behind him. "I found this down at the base."

Emily was not hard to see amidst all the white snow. Break turned back and hurried to snatch her up and away from the stranger. Lotus only cocked a furry brow.

"Why do you carry a doll around? I thought dolls were for girls."

Perhaps it was a good thing that Emily was in his mouth at the moment, considering the few choice words he would've liked to spit out at the boy. Regardless, he snorted, rolling his eyes and continuing to follow Gianaval. He felt Lotus' gaze drilling into the back of his head the entire way down.

Once at the base, he watched as the old wolf stood at the edge of the platform, and lifted his head to the sky. He howled a long, sweet note before dropping half an octave, and drawing silent again.

Moments passed. Break found a small crevice to set Emily in before going to Gianaval's side and sitting back on his haunches, throwing the grey one a curious look.

"Each wolf has it's call, the call others use to beckon them," said Gianaval, staring out over the meadow. "The one you just heard is Binde's call – if he is anywhere within hearing distance – which he is – he will hear it, and come straightaway."

"Binde?" Break frowned thoughtfully, looking down at his paws. His paws… it was still so strange. Toes and claws rather than fingers and nails, a coat of fur, four legs… not to mention the extra limb.

"Why Binde?"

"You shall see."

He snorted; why did people have to be cryptic… Strike that question; it was self-incriminating. Looking up, Break noted that the skies had cleared overhead from their previous overcast gloominess to the bright grey-blue of a sunny winter day. No clouds could be seen for miles, until his gaze reached the mountains once more… While menacing, there was something drawing about that Shadow Peak, in all it's unearthly wonder…

He heard the _pat-pat-pat _of feet on snow, and the intake and release of heavy breath, long before he even caught sight of Binde in his return. The brown wolf burst from the underbrush into the open with speed befitting a dog of his stature, and made a beeline straight for Gianaval. Binde then skidded to a stop mere inches from the old wolf, and inclined his head.

"Great Sire." These words, spoken with such reverence. It was not hard to see that Gianaval was honored and respected by all near to him.

Gianaval touched his nose to Binde's forehead, and that was a signal for the latter to rise once more. A grandfatherly smile graced Gianaval's countenance.

"Binde, I have something I want you to do."

All business, Binde stood tall, squaring his broad shoulders – Break noticed he stood at least three inches taller than Gianaval. "Anything, my lord."

"I need you to look after Xerxes."

_"What!?"_

Break looked to Binde, who had uttered the incredulous statement at the same exact moment as he had. Binde looked rather deflated, obviously not having expected such a low commission. Break, on the other hand, couldn't resist the scowl that twisted his expression, meant to let both of the other wolves know exactly what he thought of that proposal.

"I'm not a child," said he with indignation – the very idea that Gianaval would request such a thing! "I don't need a babysitter."

Binde said nothing, and so Gianaval took the opportunity to respond. "You are new here. You may as well be a child, for you know nothing of what it means to be a wolf."

"What is there to know?" Break kept the distance between them, quite suddenly eager to stand on his own. "Be a predator, a hunter, a warrior. Is that so hard that I need someone else to teach it to me? You forget who I was before last night!"

Gianaval sighed, with no trace of irritation or belittling in his gaze. Instead, there seemed a hint of disappointment… "I do not forget, brash one. But you would do well not to forget what pride is, for I hear it very strongly in your words."

"This isn't about-"

"Is it? You do not wish for Binde's help, because you feel you do not need it, that you understand our ways already and can stand on your own four feet. But you have not had four feet for even half a day, now, have you?"

He longed to lash back, to say something more that would silence the old wolf into resignation… But there was nothing to say. And by Gianaval's expression, the wolf knew it as well.

"You see? You cannot honestly tell me that you know all there is to know about the wolves, those of us whom you only just met not five hours ago." Gianaval gave him a knowing smile. "You need help, Xerxes."

"I can figure it out for myself." The words leapt off Break's tongue before he had the chance to even think about them.

Gianaval only chuckled, and shook his head. "No… I think not. There is more to us than you think, guardian. And if you desire to continue to watch over your charge at a distance while we figure out a way to help you get back where you belong, I suggest that you listen to Binde, learn from him."

As Break stared long and hard at the old wolf, Gianaval turned then to Binde, who stared at the snow in front of his feet with a pondering expression.

"And you, Binde – I expected more from you."

"Sire…" Binde looked up, looking as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. "P-Perhaps… there would be another… better suited-"

"There is no other I trust more with this task than you, my son," said the old one. "You are the boldest and bravest of our clan, you passed all other tests in the past with flying colors, and you know what it is to be a Wolf. I want you – I need you to pass on this knowledge to our new comrade. Can you do that for me?"

Binde studied his elder, blue eyes darting slightly as if searching for something in Gianaval's golden ones, until he lowered his head in submission. "Of course… Great Sire."

Gianaval smiled. "Good, very good. Now, I would like you to take Xerxes on your patrol today – teach him what you see he needs to be taught."

Once Binde had nodded, Gianaval turned, cast Break a wink, and then plodded back up the pinnacle of rock toward his perch at the top.

Silence reigned for a long moment, as both Break and Binde studied one another. Break kept a hint of distaste in his gaze, still balking at the idea of having to be chauffeured around as if he couldn't take care of himself.

But… In a way, he couldn't. Not here. Here, he was way out of his league, and there was no way that he'd get through this alone…

"Well?" he finally said, albeit a tad harshly. "Don't you have something you should be teaching me?"

At this, Binde frowned, looking slightly taken aback. But then, the timber just shook his head, and turned his back on Break. "Follow me… guardian."


	10. Chapter 9: Foiled

**A/N: Whoo! I know it's been a long while since I posted the last chapter... But things have yet to slow down, and I've been putting more time in writing my own original works. I've got to get this novel done by next year... . Anyway, I had some time today, since I've been sick the past few days. It's a good thing I can write short chapters here...**

**So, we have more of Pythos, and Sharon. X] Review? You can pet wolf!Break!**

**Break: O_W I am ****_not _****a pet!**

**Chapter 9:**

**_Foiled_**

Pythos darted around yet another corner, his long, sleek body maneuvering easily over the flat surface of the marble halls, and running carpets. He kept to the base of the wall, just in the corner, to avoid feet of any kind.

The house was on the hunt for him. And no small wonder – a cobra was a thing to be feared.

A part of him relished in the terror he brought to the inhabitants of the household. It was his power to wield, his and his alone. Even wolves could not summon the influence to utterly petrify a human being. For a wolf was a mortal enemy, to be sure. But a single bite from his jaws, which were faster than a blink, and his victim knew that their time on this earth was over. His venom would escort them to the very gates of the afterlife. And there was no escape.

He could hear the women's shrieks of fright as they relayed the tale of their witness, the shouting of men's voices down the corridors, the heavy tramping of feet on the rugs… and somewhere beyond all of that, he could detect the gentle squeak of wooden wheels.

"Found you…" he hissed to himself.

He dove behind an urn as two men in long black coats hustled past. When their footsteps faded into the next hallway, he peered out, and continued on.

Following the sound of the wheelchair was not difficult. It was so foreign among all the other sounds of the house – the only one of its kind. Like a laugh on a cold, icy mountain, it rang out like a signal for him to trace. And trace it he did, right into the grand parlor on the main floor.

Her back was to the door. Good. She, and the young heiress sat beside the fireplace. The girl curled up at her grandmother's feet, leaning on the blanket that encircled the lower half of the elderly woman's chair. Wrinkled hands clasped smooth, flawless ones as the old one whispered words of comfort.

"My dear girl… You know he would rather die serving you than any other way. And in the end, I doubt your argument stood out in his thoughts."

"But it's my fault! If I hadn't been so rash and stormed off like I did, he never would have gone after that wolf. He'd be here; things would be like they always have been…" The heiress sniffled, burying her teary face against her grandmother's hands. "What if he did think of that argument… What if he felt as guilty as I do… I know he did, grandmamma. He always felt guilty… about everything…"

"Shhh…" The old one sighed. "We… can never know for sure how things truly were. What we can and must do now is hope for the best, and look to the future."

For a long moment, the heiress didn't reply. Her face slowly hardened into a cold, hard sorrow. Pythos saw the self-hatred oh so easily from where he had curled up in the dancing shadows of the hearth.

"What future, grandmamma? How… I can't imagine a future without him in it…"

Tears spilled over again – and would keep spilling over, he guessed, indefinitely. For days, weeks, probably years to come. This new wound, dealt cruelly in the depths of the night, would more than likely never heal.

And that knowledge made swell a sick pleasure in Pythos' heart. A smile tugged at his scaly lips.

It was then, as the heiress' eyes were closed in grief, and the grandmother's head bowed in silent comforting, that he emerged from his hiding place. His grin grew wider still as he inched closer, and closer to his target. If he could just slip under those wheels, and get at her ankle…

He heard the guntshot, and then nothing.

~PH~

Sharon couldn't hold in the shriek of fright as the gunshot resounded through the manor. More shouts that sounded as surprised as she felt followed, and she heard their owners approaching the parlor.

She felt herself pulled closer to her grandmother, and further from the fire. Sheryl gasped, and Sharon hurried to follow her gaze. In front of the fireplace, lay a massive writhing black serpent, its head blown completely away. She whirled, along with her grandmother, to face the doorway.

A man in a long, black coat stood framed in the brighter light from the hallway behind him – a black coat oh, so different from the Pandora agents'. There were no shoulders of white; instead, a golden cross and chain adorned the front, matching the buttons, graced by tendrils of long, golden-blonde hair. His arm still remained rigid, pistol poised to fire in the gloved hand, and the last waft of smoke drifted from the barrel.

He cocked his head, and smiled at them. His mismatching eyes narrowed with the unnerving expression, but their depths were untouched by the mirth he attempted to show. So similar, yet so different from Break's smile…

"Lady Sheryl," said the gunman with an incline of his head. "Miss Sharon. Hullo."

"Vincent!" Sheryl placed a hand on her chest, inhaling deeply. Sharon watched as the fright slowly drained from the elderly woman's countenance.

But Sharon didn't relax. Her late guardian's never-ceasing wariness of the contractor of Dormouse seemed to have passed to her.

"You scared us half to death," continued her grandmother, her hand absently stroking Sharon's hair. "But thank you. I never-"

"The King Cobra is among one of the largest and deadliest snake breeds in the world," the adopted Nightray rattled off, lowering his gun. "A single bite can inject anywhere between two-hundred, and five-hundred milligrams of toxic venom, equal and exceeding the average injection of the western diamondback rattlesnake, and fully capable of fatality. The cobra's venom targets the central nervous system…" He paused, heaving a sigh as he holstered his pistol. "Depending on the severity of the bite, you might have been dead within half an hour."

Sheryl gave a short laugh, letting tension ebb away with the action, while Sharon could only scowl.

"Well then, thank you, good sir, for saving our lives," said the duchess with a smile, which Vincent returned.

"What was a cobra doing in our house?" Sharon didn't even try to hide her distaste. She was in no mood to deal with the Sewer Rat right now, and she had no doubt that he would be the last person to be sympathetic to the dark occasion at hand.

"Looking for an easy meal, by the looks of it." Oh, how she loathed his smile… "It's a good thing I was on my way to offer my condolences." His smile dimmed, but only just, as he looked straight at Sharon. She saw the deceitful glint in his red eye. "The Hatter will surely be missed."

The Hatter. Vincent never called Break by his name. One of the many things of which Sharon had inquired of Break in the past, and one of the many things which he would never answer.

"Thank you, Vincent. Your kind words are appreciated." Sharon hoped she wasn't imagining the slight hint of sarcasm in her grandmother's words. It made a small smile tug at her mouth. Obvious, Sheryl would only be so cordial to the man, and the fact that they seemed to harbor the same distaste for Vincent as her guardian had seemed a proper tribute to him.

"Gilbert told me of your task force, Miss Sharon," said he, stepping further into the room, so that the light of the fire played at his features. "I am honored that you requested I be a part of it."

"Well, despite all else, you are skilled with a firearm, even better than your brother," Sharon replied curtly.

"I am sure Hatter would be proud of your desire to avenge his death."

There was something dark in his tone, and his stare, something… something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But it was enough to make her shiver. And she began to wonder if it was truly a good idea to request the services of the likes of Vincent Nightray…


	11. Chapter 10: Attempts

**A/N: Okay! Back to Break and Binde. X3 Quite the duo, they are. And a long chapter, in recompense for my lengthy silence. ^_^ Enjoy! I had fun writing this scene, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it, those of you who are still following...**

**Chapter 10:**

**_Attempts_**

Binde stopped Break at the edge of the woods, planting his foreleg in front of him. Break looked up to give him a sharp glare, only to find the brown wolf staring at him with bright blue eyes from under a furrowed brow.

He waited a long while for him to speak, and quickly grew uncomfortable under the steady gaze.

What did he want? It was bad enough that he'd been placed under the supervision of this lower status… He didn't want to finish that thought. But really, why wouldn't the wolf say anything?

Finally, Binde spoke, in a voice quiet, yet commanding.

"Walk in my footsteps."

A simple request, out of the blue. Break frowned, arching a confused brow, and stepped away from Binde's leg. "What?"

"Walk in my footsteps. Not beside me."

Oh, all the implications that statement held… To walk in someone's footsteps, one had to walk _behind _them… and let them lead.

Break wasn't about to let it go that easily. "Why?"

Binde began walking once more, and Break defiantly followed beside him, keeping watch on the other wolf's expression as he did so. "Gianaval charged me to teach you. Your first lesson: always follow the leader, right in his footsteps. Then only one set of prints is left behind."

His pride took a blow, but he slowed, and moved over to walk in Binde's footsteps. There was nothing more he could argue with.

It looked to be nearing noon – the sun climbed higher and higher still in the crisp blue of the winter sky. The two wolves maneuvered through the dense evergreen underbrush, their steps silent in the emptiness of the air. Wind combed through the forest with its freezing arctic fingers, stirring snow in its wake, and bringing the promise of a storm later in the day.

No chills raced up his spine. Hm; perhaps fur had its advantages.

Binde stopped. Break nearly ran into him from behind, and grunted as he staggered back again. "What are you-"

"Shh…" The way Binde let the word trail off uncertainly set Break on edge. "Xerxes… Do you hear anything?"

He listened. Ears swiveling, he took in all the sounds around him…

Silence.

He shook his head. "No…"

"Precisely." Binde dove behind the nearest bush, skidding to a stop half-buried in snow. "Hide!"

The idea of throwing himself into a thicket wasn't exactly appealing, but the urgency in Binde's voice urged him to do so anyway. The snow made his nose sting with cold, and he shook the white powder from his face before Binde chomped down on his ear.

"Hush, Xerxes."

As soon as they ceased their movement, the silence seemed to thicken. The birds had stilled. The wind died, and a twig snapped somewhere close by, the sound echoing across the trees.

And then, Break saw it. It moved with great care, hustling like a bear, muscles bulging with each weighty step. But its steps made no sound in the silence. Only the huff of its heavy breath broke the stillness, and smog poured from its snout with each pant. Not the frosty white of chilled breath, but a heat, distorted and warped. Its pitch coat seemed to suck away all sense of light around it.

But what struck Break hardest was its luminous crimson eyes. Pinpoints of color on a dark plain, they glowed bright even in broad daylight.

The beast sniffed at the air, and turned its head from side to side. Its lip curled, revealing ivory fangs.

He heard Binde's breath cut short, and only soon after realized that his had done the same. The great black wolf had obviously detected something amiss… but what? Had it smelled them? Break paused to feel the direction of the breeze; they were downwind…

The black one bolted, and Break swallowed any sort of reaction as he realized it was going in a different direction – to their left, several meters away. It burst through a clump of brush, shattering the dry foliage, and came out chasing a grey hare. The poor little creature lasted only a dozen yards before the monstrosity barreled onto it. Break couldn't close his ears to its frightened cries.

"Please! Please! Please, have mercy! Pl-"

With the stomach-churning crunch of bones, the beast silenced it, and the scent of fresh blood once again filled the air. Its aroma of metallic rust made Break's nose twitch and burn, and he felt he'd be sick any moment.

Then… the beast stiffened, and angled its head to the side. _What is it doing? _And then, with horror strengthening the illness in his gut, he realized that in the moment-long chase, the hare had led it directly behind them… From the trembling of its dark snout, it became obvious.

It detected them.

Just as its hackles raised, Break felt his companion tense beside him.

"Run!" Binde shouted, and took off in a single burst of speed. With a shove of his hindlegs, Break wasn't far behind. The wind increased around them with each long stride, and snow flew up in sparkling flurries. Winter skeletons of the underbrush quivered with their passing, and moments later, snapped into splinters with the crash of the hulking black mass in pursuit.

Break could swear he felt the monster's black breath on his back. It made his hair stand on end, and had he still been able to, he might've felt sweat trickling down his brow. His pulse pounded in his temples with every breath and the muscles along his spine grew warm from the strain of his length. His bones jarred as the pair vaulted off the edge of a small wash out.

"We have to split up," said Binde, breaths coming hard as he slowed just a moment. "Together, we're too big a target."

"And separate, he'll pick us off one by one!" Break snapped in return. "Two can overpower one easily."

Break found himself knocked off course, and he careened into the drifts. Instantly, he was back on his feet, shaking the snow from his hide.

"What the heck was that for!?"

"Not this one, Xerxes!" Binde's eyes blazed. "You must trust me; we have to go separate ways. For now. Meet at the southern wall, by the gates."

With that, Binde raced off in one direction, and Break took a brief moment to fume. Who on earth did this wolf think he was, to order him a-

The black mass exploded over the ledge, and nearly crushed Break under its massive weight. He couldn't suppress the cry of alarm that burst from his throat as he backpedaled, then spun on his heels and began his sprint once more.

Oh, it had been years since he'd had to run like this! Years of working for Pandora, and keeping up his training, aiming to protect the members of the Rainsworth house, and many others – yet here was a danger, one more deadly than many he'd ever seen, that he'd never encountered. Its power astounded him, and a fleeting thought infiltrated his mind of someday studying these creatures, these 'Dark Ones'.

But not now. Not when his life was in danger. Not when each stride he made wasn't long enough to keep the beast from gaining on him. Its weight made the ground shudder, and he felt it through his feet.

"You think you can run." The monster's voice rumbled low and throaty, just behind him. He felt its breath on his tail. "But not for long, old one."

_Old one? How… _Could this thing tell anything just from his scent?

"You are tiring," it said, as Break made a hairpin turn to the right. He heard it turn after him in a wide arc; its sheer size and momentum kept it from moving as agilely as he did. "I can smell it. Give up now, and I will make your death a quick one."

_Sharon lost me once… I will not let it happen again, not while I can help it! _

"Perhaps another day, ol' chap!" Break vaulted over a fallen tree. The beast did the same, landing on the dry bark and tearing gouges into it as he leapt off again. "Today, I aim to live!"

Then he heard it – rushing water. The ground began to decline, and he smelled the cool scent of ice.

The river!

He picked up his pace as much as was possible. His limbs strained and ached in protest, but he couldn't stop! Not now! Not as he felt jaws snap at his tail.

Running, running, running… That action alone consumed his being. Had to run, had to run. He'd never been one to flee from danger, but from everything Gianaval and Binde had said about the Dark Ones, these were no ordinary foes! And considering he'd never faced one before? This was no time for arrogant boldness!

Something struck him in the back of the leg, and the force of the blow sent him fishtailing just as the chase pushed them out of the forest and onto the banks of the icy river. Miniature iceburgs grew larger in his sight, and his claws scrambled for some kind of hold in the snow. He skidded to a stop, and pebbles of frozen earth showered into the water. The air at his back grew warm, and he could almost feel the teeth bearing down on his back.

And then, he was a meter away, and running for his life again.

_Whoa! _He'd never moved that fast before! Not even in the most dire of circumstances, in any part of his past. Then again, he'd never felt the jaws of Death itself take a bite at his neck, either, so…

Somewhere, there had to be somewhere he could cross! And if he could use his advantage of smaller size and weight in the process? That would be even more ideal.

But wait! He knew this place! And from his memory, he knew there to be a waterfall – small, but just enough perhaps to help him – not far ahead. He and Sharon had taken to walking along the river banks during the springs in recent years, when the water was highest.

Perhaps fifty yards to go. He had yet to spot the edge of the water through the trees.

The beast's footsteps pounded in his ears in time with his heartbeat.

Forty yards. He heard the roar of the falls.

His foot hit something hard beneath the snow, and he stumbled. Claws brushed his flank.

Thirty yards. He caught sight of the rocks that jutted over the ledge, covered in ice from the never ending mist of the falls below. A bit of ice formed a tiny ice bridge between them, just wide enough for perhaps a cat to cross. There was no way he could walk across it; but it was his only hope, if he were to jump. If he missed…

Run, run, run Hatter! The beast drew nigh at his back, and he swore he felt those claws brushing his ankles with each extension.

He began running in a broad arc in order to keep his momentum in his jump across the river. His mouth felt dry; his breaths grew shallow. It had to end soon! He wasn't sure how much longer he could last…

Mere yards away, the boulders loomed. Beneath the snow, the terrain shifted abruptly from grass and soil to stone, and a bit of the traction he had slipped away. He couldn't move fast enough; chunks of snow fell from the edges and tumbled into the rushing water. Then he came to the edge, and pushed off with all his might.

He watched the water pass under him. He could pick out small clumps of ice floating at its surface before they were hurled off the edge into the mist below. The air was colder.

In a blink, he'd reached the other side. His feet left long trenches in the snow as he slid down the incline. But he still couldn't stop! Only when he was all the way to the treeline on the opposite side did he finally slow, and turn, for he no longer felt the shadowy precense behind him.

There stood the beast, halted at the edge of the boulder, on the other side of the river. It stared down at the water, its red eyes unreadable, before lifting its head to stare directly at him.

Break knew that there was no way it would chance a jump now. It had lost its momentum in stopping; he spotted long ruts where its halt had plowed away snow. Such a great mass needed momentum for a jump; did it consider retracing its steps to come at him again worth its while?

He shivered under its gaze. Those unnatural eyes, the color of freshly spilled blood… like that of the unfortunate hare that the beast had claimed as its prey not ten minutes ago.

A fall into those frigid waters could be fatal. Not only would one who missed the jump face the waterfall within seconds – not that this proved very dangerous; the fall was short, the pool at the bottom deep and vacant of sharp rocks – but going for a swim in the dead of winter was never the smartest idea, unless one fancied losing a limb to frostbite, or dying of hypothermia.

Long moments passed as the stare down continued, before the black one finally turned and lumbered away. Just like that. It turned its back on him, and made for the dark of the trees beyond. It didn't even look back. Break watched its hulking form disappear into the brush, and could scarcely believe it had been that simple.

He took a moment to process what had just happened. And then… Binde! The wolf had said to meet him by the southern gates… But he couldn't mean too close; not with Sharon's order still standing. _Kill every wolf on sight… _No, Binde had to mean nearby, but out of range from gunmen at the guardposts. Or out of sight from them, at least.

Nevertheless, he had to meet him. Or else, perhaps, Binde would think him dead…

_Lucky dog. He got off easy; he wasn't the one who had to outrun a bear!_


	12. Chapter 11: Wolf

**Hm... I seem to have more time to work on this when I'm ****_not _****feeling well... Go figure. Anyway, not a particularly long chapter; more of a filler, actually... Anyway, enjoy. And big thanks and cookies to all who have reviewed and followed and favorited! I'm so glad you've enjoyed it thus far.**

**Review! Wolf!Break will be sad if you don't.**

**~Penelope**

**Chapter 11:**

**_Wolf_**

"I swear, my mistress. It was he. No mistake."

A low purr rumbled its way to Breoc's ears from the shrouded throne once more. She laughed – _laughed_! His scruff bristled.

"This is no laughing matter, milady! He's still very much alive, and under the tutelage of one of the Light worms! If he becomes their ally-"

She laughed all the harder, her eyes emerald crescents of low light in the darkness. "He is already their ally, Commander. Are you so blind as to not see that? Ha; it matters not. Let him tie himself to those simpering fools. I care not! He is not so great a threat that I will allow his new form to trouble me; in fact, it is better now than before. Now, he is in a form much easier controlled."

Breoc's eyes widened considerably, and he snorted. "You suggest we try and turn he, a knight of the last Age, into a Dark One?" It was his turn to laugh, in ridicule of the notion. "You'd sooner force a camel through the eye of a needle."

"That is a rich man, Breoc. You can sooner fit a camel through the eye of a needle than convince a rich man to give up all he owns. A knight is much more persuadable. Their reknowned loyalty is their downfall!" The dark mistress cackled, and Breoc swore he saw the glimmer of her fangs.

But Breoc was tired of riddles and cryptic language. He growled low. "Speak plainly, cat!"

That silenced her, and he instantly regretted opening his maw. In a blink, claws flashed, and pain exploded across his face. He felt the searing heat of tearing flesh, and his body left the ground from the force of the blow. After rolling across the harsh stone floor, he finally came to a stop at the edge of a boulder on the far wall. Everything spun, and as he staggered to his feet again, he managed to catch sight of the approaching black figure.

"You dare mock me, wolf!" she spat, head held high and lips curled to reveal her rows of gleaming ivory teeth. Her eye twitched. "Attempt to order me about again, and I shall have your head mounted on the wall alongside the guardian's! You will organize a distraction on the day of the human's funeral – harass the carriage, something." Her tone grew condescending, like she was talking to a child. "Then, when the Light servants are properly occupied, launch an assault of the mansion. Kill the mother, and anyone who gets in your path! Go now, and redeem yourself!"

_~*Guardian*~_

There it was. The wall, and the guardhouses. Two Pandora agents stood rigid just within the gates, hands at their sides, ready to reach for their pistols at a moment's notice.

Break turned his crimson gaze to the tree line; if Binde were to hide anywhere, it had to be in the shelter of the forest. Otherwise, he'd be shot. Break sought along the dry underbrush for a sign of any kind that his companion had been that way.

So far, he'd been following… Well, he couldn't rightly describe it. It was like… an essence, like the very presence of the other wolf had left a trail in the form of a deep, earthy scent. It was nearly visible, and all he'd had to do was go where it led him. He found footprints, broken limbs, even tufts of fur left on the extended fingers of branches. Blatant evidence that Binde had indeed come this way.

But at the edge of the woods, those signs came to an end, and in the open chill, the scent had been blown away in the winter wind.

So, just along the edge Break walked, scanning both the openness and the darkening woods with a critical eye. He jumped at every sound, expecting that black monstrosity to leap out at any moment. Even though he'd left it at the river, there was no reason to think it had no other way of crossing.

Jaws clamped down on his neck, and pulled him to the side by his skin. A strangled yelp burst from his throat, and he was sure he heard the guards start at the sudden rustle of brush. He was tossed onto his back, and he rolled right over to spring onto his feet again. He bristled, and drew his lips back to reveal his fangs.

Binde snorted, rolling his cobalt eyes and giving him a glare about as cold as the breeze. "Really, Xerxes."

Break had never felt outmatched, or intimidated by anyone. So, when he moved to speed past Binde with a blinding blow to send the other wolf staggering back as a return of the favor, he found that his companion didn't budge an inch, and had stopped Break's momentum like a brick wall. Break stared at Binde with a befuddled, and rather curious expression. He again threw his weight against the other dog, who barely swayed, feet planted solidly.

Next time he tried was when he, instead, got a nice big bite of humble pie that tasted an awful lot like cold snow. Binde moved out of the way to let Break's inertia carry him right past and into a drift at the base of a tree.

As he crawled his way out of the snow, Binde scoffed, giving his head a shake much like Liam-san did often. "What are you playing around for? We have a patrol to man."

Break shook himself off, and cast Binde a wry smile. "What's wrong with a little fun? I'd say I deserve it after what you left me to deal with."

"It isn't as if I could predict who he would go after. If we'd stayed together, he would have followed us wherever we went. As it is," to emphasize his point, Binde glanced about with feigned caution, "I see no Dark One."

While inwardly he cringed at the turnabout, Break maintained his aloof disposition by giving a fake pout. "But I'm too old to be racing such beasts; perhaps I cannot go another step." He even planned to feign a collapse into the snow right then.

Binde didn't even react; he didn't even glance back. He continued on, words casual as he threw them over his shoulder. "Then you may wait here for the guards to catch you, and kill you."

Break loped to his side, and continued to follow. He gave Binde a mild glare. "You're no fun, you know?"

"With a job like ours, one often has no time for 'fun'. 'Fun' has gotten sentries killed, Xerxes." Binde's expression remained solemn and facing straight ahead. "And we cannot afford to lose any more of our numbers." He finally glanced at Break. "Footsteps."

Break fell into step behind him.

The twosome walked along in silence, Binde leading him along in what Break assumed to be the patrol route. As they neared Koba's death place, Binde spoke once more.

"That Dark One we encountered… He was no ordinary evil one."

Break couldn't help but roll his eye heavenward at that. "Oh, no, so there's more than one kind, now? As if having good and evil wolves wasn't enough. What is it? Is he _extra_ evil, then?"

Binde's lip twitched, and the other wolf looked about ready to snap at Break, which made Break grin. But, with a sigh, Binde recomposed himself before continuing.

"He is not just _a _Dark One, he is _the _Dark One. One of the Black Council, and one of the most receptive of the Dark Lord's power. He is the Commander of the Black Forces, one of the High Kings of Shadow Peak! It is no joking matter, Xerxes." Binde's eyes held a seriousness that made Break want to put laughing matters aside – which, of course, was a rare occurance.

"Breoc is out and about. That means that the Black Council has adjourned, allowing their members to roam and reap havoc once more."

They came to the clearing, where Binde stopped and looked out over the mansion. Break followed his gaze, and thought he saw three familiar figures – two dark-haired, one blonde – on the balcony in the west wing.

"Something has happened on the other end," said Binde, voice now low with foreboding. Break found himself sobered by the words. "And I don't know what… But I think we're about to find out soon."

Break caught sight of movement in the gardens below. He scanned the skeletal shrubbery for it, and found a pair of scrawny black wolves – nothing near the size of the one Binde had called Breoc – making their way toward…

A growl rose in Break's throat, causing Binde to cast him a confused glance.

"What is the Sewer Rat doing here?" Break peered closer, and this time, he felt cold air chill his teeth as they were exposed with a rumbling snarl. "And with Sharon?"

Binde followed his gaze. But the wolf seemed more concerned about the black wolves which were crouching low, drawing nearer to the pair.

"We'll have to be careful," Binde muttered, sinking down to his belly to stalk down the hill. Break followed. "With the order in place, who knows how many could be ready to shoot at a moment's notice. But we can't risk those Dark Ones getting anywhere near the heiress."

There already was a Dark One, right next to Sharon, but Break wasn't about to hash that out with Binde. Especially not now. They were nearing the wall – the very section of wall that Break had vaulted over less than twenty-four hours ago in chase of Koba. Now, they had to jump right back over, into hostile territory, facing both those they aimed to protect, and those who would be slain.

They drew in their breath.


	13. Chapter 12: Teeth and Claws

**A/N: Finally, I finished the next chapter! And you can find a drawing of Break, Binde, and the other wolves on my deviantArt profile. Just search PenelopeJadewing. *nodnod* Enjoy, and hope you like this chappie!**

**Chapter 12:**

**_Teeth and Claws_**

Break tried to mimic Binde's movements to keep sound to a minimum of none. Eight paws made no sound as claws slid over ice and snow that blanketed the cobblestone. The birds had fallen silent; even in broad daylight, the snowy white was no longer crisp and cheery. Every shadow around every corner meant that the Dark Ones could be around the next bend. Break's ears swiveled to and fro at every sound, honing in on three sounds in particular: the shuffle of feet, the muffled voices, and the low huffs of dark breath.

Binde paused, and Break did the same, at the nearest corner to peer around. Just ahead, the two black wolves lay in wait, and Break caught sight of Vincent's blond head just over the last wall of twisted skeleton hedge. His lips twitched about his teeth.

One of the Dark Ones stood straight and lifted its head to release a long, low howl. The entire garden suddenly grew cold, and the footsteps halted. Break watched as Vincent looked about, and his ears detected quiet whispers. And then…

The cocking of a pistol.

Binde surged forward, barreling down on the Dark Ones. It took Break but a second to react before he was following suit, strides swallowing the short distance. Then, he was leaping, flying, forelegs out, claws gleaming and teeth bared. The second Dark One was snapping for Binde's neck.

_Not this time._

The entirety of his weight compacted into one blow sent both he and the Dark One spinning in a typhoon of fur and teeth out into the middle of the next corridor, practically at the feet of the two humans. Break detected Sharon's scream over the spine-shuddering yips and growls bellowing from the Dark One's jaws. Adrenaline poured into his veins, and every move was precise and full of deadly energy. The Dark One, significantly larger than Break himself, writhed under his weight, and attempted to brace its feet against the stone path in order to gain control of its own mass. But at the moment, Break had the advantage, and he wasn't about to lose it without a fight.

He pressed down on the Dark One's collarbone, trying to still its movement. It lashed at his chest, and he could feel the gleaming claws raking through thick fur in search of soft flesh. He shifted, and the black one gained leverage, kicking at his sensitive underbelly and throwing him backward. His claws left trenches in the bricks.

A gunshot fired, and ricocheted off the stone at Break's feet; he jumped, gaze lifting to where Vincent stood, striding back with Sharon behind him. Those mismatching eyes were narrowed and critical, and he boldly locked gazes with Break. Two single red eyes glinted with the same kind of ferocity, though directed at separate things.

And then… He knew, Break realized. As mentally troubled as the man was, Vincent Nightray was still shrewd as a serpent. It was not impossible to imagine that Vincent saw something out of place from the very start. At the place of Break's supposed death, where were the bones, the rest of the carnage? And if it had been dragged away, where was the blood trail? If there was anyone to actually think about the details and consider the far-fetched as a solution, it was Vincent. The small smirk playing at Vincent's face confirmed his suspicions.

A blur of shadow threw itself into his side in an attempt to throw him off his feet. Break staggered to the side, and pivoted his feet against the Dark One as it snapped and clawed, ever reaching for his throat. Break glanced again to Vincent.

The pistol rose again, but before Vincent's thumb moved to cock it, a different shot fired from the balcony up and further away. This one struck the Dark One right in the ear, piercing right through the thin cartilage to exit into the bushes on the other side. The beast howled in pain, momentarily distracted enough for Break to knock it away from him.

"Xerxes!" Binde barked, and Break turned his head in time to duck as the second black wolf leapt right over him. "Stop him!"

Break spun on his heels, feeling his spine twisting like a spring before he pounced after the other wolf before it could reach the feet of the humans. Vincent's pistol cocked again, and two shots fired simultaneously – one from Vincent, and one from the balcony.

With all the ruckus that was being raised, Break wasn't surprised when his keen ears detected rapidly approaching footsteps and loud shouts of a dozen men. Pandora had been roused.

Miraculously, Break felt both bullets rush along his back, but they plinked harmlessly on the stone behind him. That left him a few seconds to try and pin the Dark One. This one was thinner, lither than the other, and it kept trying to dart out from under him. It managed to clamp its jaws down on Break's ankle, and hot pain shot up his entire leg as the fangs wedged through the skin and pressured the bones. He clenched his teeth, feeling them grinding.

Vincent was hesitating. Break knew that both of them knew how good a shot the younger Nightray was. All four wolves could have been lying dead on the cobblestone by now had Vincent chosen to unleash his fury. Yet, he hadn't, and that confused Break to no end. After all, from past interaction, he would have thought that Vincent would jump at the chance to send a bullet through his heart.

The blond whispered something in Sharon's ear, at which she nodded and hurried to disappear further into the maze. While Vincent reloaded his pistol, Break waited for Gilbert's shot from the balcony; he was thoroughly confused. Both adopted Nightrays were deadly marksmen. Why were they missing so badly?

Gilbert's next shot never came. Break then dared to turn away from the Dark One to sneak a glance at the balcony, where he spotted a blond head holding Gilbert back while peering down on the skirmish. Oz-kun…

Something shoved him off the Dark One, its grip on his foot sliding loose, and he rolled over his back to spring back to his feet again, ready to retaliate. Until he took in the deep brown fur; Binde clamped his jaw onto the black wolf's throat, and Break grimaced at the sickening crunch of windpipe under those iron teeth. Blood poured from the flesh under Binde's mouth, and the Dark One writhed in the final throws of death. Each breath it tried to take hissed from its wound through bubbling hot crimson. Finally, its black maw went slack, blood slowly filling its throat, and its eyes rolled back until only pupil-less white shone through its sockets. As Binde withdrew, deep red staining his lips, the carcass smoldered and smoked, and rolled onto its side, nothing more than dead weight.

"Quickly, we must go," said Binde under his breath as a Pandora agent emerged a few feet behind Vincent. "Soon, there will be too many."

Two shots went off as the two turned tail and darted down a side vein. Binde surged ahead, while Break limped behind – his right forepaw left a bloody trail across the cobblestone pathways. They maneuvered their way through the twists and turns until they came to the wall. Binde sailed over with ease, but as Break followed, his foot gave way under the impact on the other side, and he thudded into the snow. Binde waited tensely for him to pick himself back up before they were off again, leaving the scene of the battle behind. More shots were fired from the garden, but they plunged harmlessly into the snow-laden hill as the two of them disappeared into the thick trees.

_~*Guardian*~_

"It looked like Break, I'm telling you! Didn't you see it? Red eye, and fringe of hair, and white, and everything!"

Alice folded her arms. "Well, then, you were seeing things. The Clown was mauled by wolves. It's a good-enough ending for him; let's just leave it at that."

Oz sighed and turned his emerald gaze to Gil, in hopes that the man might be so kind as to take his side. But by the regretfully skeptical look on the noire's face, it was obvious enough that he wouldn't. Not fully, anyway. Oz's expression fell, and he leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms with a huff. At least Gilbert had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

"You've got to admit… It does sound just a little… you know, odd."

"A little odd?" Alice cackled. "Ha! More than just a little, Seaweed Head. It sounds downright crazy."

Gil glared at the brunette. "Unlike you, I actually have some respect for other people… Rabbit."

"That's getting really old, you know? Come up with something original for once."

Oz rolled his eyes as the two engaged in yet another argument over nicknames. They could be so childish sometimes… He nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Vincent standing over him behind the sofa, with an odd look in his mismatching eyes.

"Master Oz," said he quietly, enough that only Oz himself could hear him over the sound of Gilbert and Alice yelling. "May I speak with you on the balcony?"

"Uhh…" Oz cocked a brow. "Okay."

The two blonds removed themselves from the room and exited once more into the frigid air of the balcony. Evening was falling upon them as the sun moved through its lower arc on its way to the horizon.

Vincent stared over the gardens for the longest time, and Oz sat himself at the small tea table as he waited. Finally, the adopted Nightray spoke, but without turning towards him.

"I think it would be in Master Oz's best interest… if he were to stay silent about his theories."

Oz furrowed his brow. "My… theories?"

"Yes. About the wolves we saw today."

"Ohhh… That."

Vincent gave a soft chuckle. "Yes. That is what would be best kept to ourselves."

This seemed suspect, and Oz couldn't help asking. "Why?"

Finally, Vincent turned to stare at Oz, and yet again, he felt a chill at the effect the red eye had on the Nightray's face. When he spoke, there was a different air to his tone.

"We wouldn't want my brother's dear master, the favorite one, to have a, shall we say, unfortunate accident… now would we?"

Oz caught his drift loud and clear.


	14. Chapter 13: Bloodshed Multiplied

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Finally got around to finishing this chappie... Enjoy, those of you who are still following.**

**Chapter 13:**

**_Bloodshed Multiplied_**

"They've attacked the carriage bearing the heiress and the Barma valet."

Those dreaded words, spoken with utmost urgency, sent chills down Break's spine. As if the Dark Ones hadn't done enough already; now they had done this? Break leapt to his feet, forepaw sending a sharp pain all the way up to his spine, but he didn't care.

"What are we doing here, then!?" In one fluid motion, he swept past Gianaval and tore across the snow-laden meadow.

"Xerxes!"

Skidding to a halt, he impatiently looked back at the older wolf, narrowing his eye. "What!?"

"You don't even know where!" Gianaval nodded to the young red wolf beside him – the one who had delivered the dreadful message. "Gaius will show you the way. Take a squadron with you!"

Mere seconds past before Gaius, Binde, and a score of wolf warriors all set out from the wolf's peak. Break ran among them, feeling the snow fly from his feet, his claws scrape against hidden frozen ground beneath the white powder. They flew with the wind at their backs, as one – for once, none of them heeded footprints. They blazed through the woods, set on one destination alone: wherever the young red wolf at the front led them.

They burst through the trees onto an open road, lined with two long ruts worn by carriage wheels. The pack turned to follow, away from the estate, toward the open countryside. Over the sound of panting breath, and harried strides, Break caught a voice on the wind that made his heart sink.

A scream. Men shouting, wolves baying and snarling. Gunshots. Chaos.

They rounded a bend and came upon the sight. The pairs of horses that had each been hooked to the two separate carriages lay slaughtered on the ground, blood pouring from gouges in their necks to stain the snow. A man lay near, having befallen the same fate. The survivors were in the carriage boxes with the doors shut. The windows had been broken out, and gloved hands tried to shoot into the warping, twisting pack of black mongrels. No black wolves had been felled yet.

Yet.

The warriors moved as one, and like a wave, they crashed over the Dark Ones. Break dove at the throat of the first one he came to and, feeling the windpipe collapse under his teeth, threw the body aside and jumped on another one.

The men from within the carriages yelled out over the fray, and the shooting came faster, harder. A burning pain skimmed over Break's shoulder blade even as he slew his next unfortunate foe. He clenched his jaw, and looked up to see Liam's frightened face staring right down at him.

"For crying out loud, Liam-san, you'd think you'd know the cavalry when you saw it!" Break paused to grip a Dark One by its neck and throw it to the ground. Unsurprisingly, from the corner of his eye, Liam made no reaction, and proceeded to reload his revolver.

Snapping his prey's neck, Break took the moment to brace his forepaws on the door of the carriage, looking up into the cab. "You shoot me, you'll regret it. Then you'll really have a reason to go to my funeral. My real one, that is."

He looked past the men, who scrambled for their pistols, to a familiar face that huddled behind them, furthest from any window. Sharon stared up at him with wide, fearful magenta eyes – those lovely magenta eyes.

How could he reach her? Was there any way he could let her know everything was all right? That he was here? When he spoke, all they heard were grunts and growls and barks.

A pitiful whine stretched from his throat, and he grimaced. Oh, that was the last thing he'd intended! A sign of weakness, blast it all. A pistol cocked, and he turned, his nose nearly hitting the barrel pointed straight at him. Liam's hands trembled, and Break locked gazes with him a moment before ducking his head, and pulling away from the carriage.

They didn't know him.

He bore into the nearest Dark One with a ferocity that startled even him. Somewhere, in the recesses of his chest, something called a heart had begun to finally ache, and he despised the feeling. He'd lived far too long, seen far too much to feel what most humans referred to as emotion. It was a waste of time and breath and energy. Not worth his time, which he usually spent protecting those he'd sworn himself to. His loyalties were all he could really feel anymore.

So then why did the very idea that those he was protecting could not see him, and now they were out to see him dead, make something ache?

He felt like a ghost.

He crunched the neck of another black wolf, felt the lifeblood seep onto his tongue, and like a lightning strike, an energy bolted through his body. That taste… Like a narcotic, it filled his senses, taunted him, tempted him deeper. To taste his prey's blood… He pulled away, and dragged another monster to the ground, snapping at its throat.

_~*Guardian*~_

_"Keep the guardian and Light warriors busy… Slip away, and infiltrate the mansion… Kill who you must."_

At long last, he had been given a mission, a task by the great black lion. Perhaps, by achieving this, he could redeem himself. He blinked, and felt the wound, stiff and swollen, on his neck strain as he grimaced. Yes, he would redeem himself. And soon.

Most of the human agents had accompanied the young heiress to the guardian's 'funeral', that much was obvious from the utter, somber silence of the halls in which he tread unhindered. Two females in servants' clothes had already stumbled upon him, and he had been forced to halt their screams before they started with a quick twist of his jaws and a snap of their necks. Humans were so easy to kill.

His paws made no sound on the carpeted corridors, and as he rounded another corner, he spotted another human coming directly toward him – tall, blond, dressed in black. Breoc froze in his tracks.

The hunter.

The human stopped as well, mismatching eyes locked on him. He was the intruder after all. And this man was famed for his marksmanship; Breoc didn't move a muscle as the stare down continued.

Still, after several minutes, the hunter did not reach for his pistol. Breoc, daring to proceed, stepped forward one paw, and then another. The human did not react. Slowly, the wolf crept down the hall to pass the human by, and even as he walked mere feet from him, the hunter still did not move, beside turning his head to watch his every step. At the human's side, Breoc paused, and stared into the strangest pair of eyes – one gold, one crimson.

A kindred spirit stared back at him.

A grin tilting his lips, Breoc moved on, suddenly unsurprised when the human let him pass. No, this human would not be troubling him. Not this night.

He smelt the air, sniffed at the carpet, searching for one smell above all others: sickness. There was sickness in the house, and he needed to find it. Or at least, the core of it. The mother. He detected a faint bitterness to the air, and followed it onto the second level of the house. It was on the last stretch – the smell had grown until it was nearly overwhelming in its strength – that he met one of the remaining agents. The man got only two shots off before Breoc had tackled him to the ground, and disposed of him. Then, at long last, there stood before him the door.

With a single thrust of raw power, he splintered the door in, sending it swinging violently on its hinges to slam into the wall behind it. The woman took a whole half-minute to react, sick to near-death, turning her head with the speed of an aged moose. And like all prey he had ever taken down, he let her look into his eyes. For in his eyes, she would see her end. Her doom. Her death.

He stalked forward upon his prey, slow, deliberate. She did not flinch at his approach; she knew what he had come for, he saw it in her own eyes. Her face, paled by fever, did not pale further, and she did not quake in fear. Like most of the old or frail ones, she knew she could not fight. Not in her condition. In this, there was no question that he would be the victor.

He came to the bedside, and with a shove of his hind legs, he jumped onto the bed, and prowled over the sickly woman. She stared back at him with the unnerving gaze of a martyr who knew her time had come. A chortle escaped his lips as he bared his ivory fangs.

Then, swiftly and mercilessly, his iron jaws descended upon her throat.


End file.
